It's Been Awhile
by FarAndAway
Summary: Kristy Thomas has a secret. She's left home because of it. Can she make it on her own? Detailed summary inside, please read and review.Complete.
1. Look For The Girl With the Broken Smile

Title: It's Been Awhile

Author: Wasted21

Rated: PG-13

Classification: Drama / Romance

Plot Summary: At twenty years old, Kristy Thomas is living a lie. Pregnant at seventeen, she panicks and, filled with shame, steals money from her stepfather in order to flee Stoneybrook so nobody will know of her pregnancy. Now, three years later, she is living with her daughter Sarah in New York City. Nobody in Stoneybrook knows where she is, and Kristy is content, relying on her job at a publishing house to pay her bills. But Kristy, who has cut herself off from other human contact, begins to mingle again, she finds that the world may not be a place she's comfortable in. New friends that she makes turn against her, and she hides her attraction to her older, British boss under a layer of contempt. Can Kristy continue to survive on her own, or will she return to Stoneybrook . . . with her daughter?

A/N: A lot of this could be considered out of character for Kristy, and that's the point. So don't tell me she's out of character or you can't see Kristy in this situation, because it can happen to anyone. This isn't about whether she belongs in this situation, but how she deals with it. That said, reviews are welcomed but flames are not tolerated.

* * *

Chapter One

It was another rainy day. Kristy Thomas stared out the window of her Manhattan apartment and shook her head. "How gloomy," she murmured to herself, taking a slow sip of scotch from the glass tumbler in her hand. Then she turned away and looked at the pile of papers that were waiting for her on her desk. Her silver laptop was wide open, its blue screen glaring at her from across the room, reminding her of all the work that she still had to do. She started to cross the room towards her work, but then a cry pierced the air. Kristy fought the urge to groan as the crying started, first slow and then faster, begging for her attention.

She stifled a sigh and set her scotch down on a nearby table. "Okay, okay, I'm coming," she said, heading for one of the bedrooms. She walked down the hallway and pushed open the door of Sarah's bedroom, expecting the worst. Instead, she was met by a fairly mild scene. Two-year-old Sarah was sitting on the floor, a pile of knocked-over blocks at her feet. Kristy leaned against the doorframe and twisted her lip into a wry grin. "The building collapsed again, didn't it?" she asked. Sarah looked up at her, her blue eyes wide and tear-filled. Kristy could never resist Sarah when she looked at her that way.

"Don't worry, we'll make it all better," Kristy promised. She went into the room and crouched down, arranging the blocks into a tower. "See? All better?"

"Thanks, Mommy," Sarah said, her tears gone.

"No problem. Listen, Mommy has to get some work done, so can you be a good girl and play quietly for awhile?"

Sarah nodded and returned her attention to her blocks. Kristy sighed and straightened up, returning to the living room.

To say that she liked her life would be stretching the truth. In her wildest dreams, Kristy never would have imagined herself living this way. When she was young, she had big dreams and big ambitions. People told her she was brilliant and would go far. Everyone expected Kristy Thomas to be the first woman president, or to run her own company, making millions in business. But none of those things had come true, and Kristy was beginning to think that they never would. At twenty years old, her life was a wreck.

It had seemed that she would achieve her dreams. She made straight A's in school and had graduated at the top of her class. But she'd graduated with a secret. During her senior year, she'd gone to the prom with her then-boyfriend, Steven James. Steven was one of the most popular guys in the class. He was a star on the football team and Kristy, being a sports nut, felt close to him and felt that they had tons in common. She was also a big name around school. She was smart, beautiful, the star of the softball team, and had tons of friends. And she felt she'd be with Steven forever. So when he wanted to have sex with her on Prom night, it seemed only natural that she give her virginity to him. It was a decision she lived to regret. A few weeks later, she discovered she was pregnant.

At first, Kristy had tried to be reasonable. She was all about taking responsibility for her own actions. She'd had it worked out nicely in her head. She and Steven would just get married and have children, and attend college together, and maybe it was all a little out of order, but who said life was supposed to be nice and tidy?

Unfortunately, Steven couldn't take the pressure of having a child. He promptly dumped her when she told him, and told her to never speak to him again. It had been a harsh slap of reality in Kristy's face. She was hurt, and terrified---and ashamed. Most of all, she was ashamed. Ashamed of her sexuality, ashamed that everyone would think she was some kind of slut. That, like Steven, everyone would think it was her fault that she'd gotten pregnant.

So she didn't tell anybody else.

On the night of her high school graduation, she'd passed on all the parties that her friends were going to. She went home and had a quiet dinner with her parents and family. And late that night, when everyone was asleep, Kristy had done something completely out of character. Completely desperate. She'd broken into her rich stepfather, Watson's, study, into the safe he kept there. The safe was filled with cash, in case of an emergency. Watson, the CEO of his own company, had millions to spare, and apparently a good chunk of that wealth was kept in the family safe. Kristy knew the combination. Everyone in the family did. And this was emergency enough. She'd snuck into the safe and taken money. Not all of it. Not even half of it. Just enough to get her out of Stoneybrook, Connecticut, and enough to live on for awhile afterwards. After she had the money, she packed up a few bags, walked to the Stoneybrook train station, and bought a one-way ticket to New York City. And she didn't look back.

The money she'd stolen was enough to keep her in a reasonably nice apartment, which she'd signed a three-year lease on and paid in advance. Unfortunately, the payment on her apartment had taken all of Watson's stolen money, so Kristy got a job as a secretary at Willow Books, a big-name publishing house. The work was less than glamorous, but the pay was excellent--enough for food and baby supplies and spending cash. When it was time for her baby to be born, Kristy went to a downscaled hospital and used a fake name so nobody from Stoneybrook would be able to track her down. She never called her family or friends in Stoneybrook. Nobody knew where she was. She was too ashamed of her pregnancy, and too guilty about the stolen money. She knew her parents must be worried about her, but for all purposes, Kristy Thomas had vanished.

She supposed she should consider herself lucky. She wasn't living in the streets, and while her stolen money was long gone, she still had her apartment paid for another few months. Her money from her job was able to pay her basic bills. She was making it, and taking care of herself. But she felt so chaotic because she was living a lie. She was so afraid of someone tracking her down that she never went out, except to work and to grocery shop. She didn't have any friends. Sometimes she felt so stressed that she didn't know what to do.

Today was one of those days. When Kristy returned to the living room, she found that her piles of work had not vanished into thin air, like she would have liked. As a full-time secretary, her boss, Clive Brighton, often dumped a lot of work on her, menial tasks such as writing rejection letters to hopeful authors or reading parts of manuscripts. Today Kristy was working from home, but she had to have seventy five rejection letters ready by the next morning. Just thinking about it made her stomach hurt. Why couldn't Clive crush people's dreams on his own? No, Kristy had to do it.

She crossed the room to her bar and poured herself another drink of scotch. Just as she was taking a sip, she felt a tug on her baggy jeans and she turned to see Sarah grinning up at her She was holding a Barbie doll in her hand. "Wanna play Barbies?" Sarah asked.

For the first time that day, Kristy smiled. Even though her life was hard, she had to admit to herself that she loved Sarah more than anything. She was a ray of sunshine, always smiling, always happy in her surroundings. She was the quietest baby Kristy had ever seen, and she was so beautiful--she had blonde hair and blue eyes like Steven.

"I have to work," Kristy explained gently. "But I'll come play with you in a little while."

Sarah looked disappointed for a minute, and then she smiled. "Okay."

She totted off towards her bedroom and Kristy watched her go, sipping her scotch. Then she sighed, went over to her laptop, and began to work.

* * *

The next morning, Kristy dropped her seventy-five rejection letters on Clive Brighton's desk. "There you go," she said, forcing a smile onto her face and into her voice. Clive, who was punching away at his computer, turned at her voice.

"Ah, Kristy, thank you," Clive said, smiling his fake smile at her. At least, Kristy assumed that it was fake. Clive was one of the top executives in the publishing company, and he was always nice to everybody. That was why Kristy didn't like him. Someone in such a high position of power couldn't possibly be that nice _all _the time. It was suspicious. "You didn't have too much trouble, did you?"

"No, not at all," Kristy said, keeping her own fake smile in place.

"Good. I appreciate the help." Clive sat back and shook his head. "I hate turning people down but you should see some of the things that come through here. I guess people think the latest trend is to write a bad book and you'll get published." He laughed. "That may work other places, but certainly not here."

Kristy grinned politely. No wonder he wanted her to do the rejection letters. But she had to admit that even though he was probably as fake as half the blondes in America, there did seem to be _something _genuine in the way he talked. And everyone liked Clive. He was British and had come to America from one of Britain's top publishing companies, and he was very respected and well-known. Not to mention good-looking. Half of the girls in the office were constantly talking about him, about his dark hair and big blue eyes and sexy British accent. It was enough to make Kristy gag. That was another reason she didn't like Clive. Because everyone else did. Who didn't have any enemies?

"If you don't mind," Clive was saying, searching through his desk, "tell me what you think of this. Now, this is something that I think has potential." He handed her a thin manuscript and when Kristy flipped through it, she saw that it was mostly poems. Kristy's first thought was that there were already plenty of poetry books out there for sale. But then she looked closer and saw that each poem was written by a different person. "Looks interesting," Kristy commented. "What's the deal?"

"It was compiled by a group of people, sort of like those Chicken soup books. But they're poems," Clive said. "I really think that it has the potential to relate to people on a more literary level, don't you?"

"Sure," Kristy said with a shrug. "I mean, you get a lot of different perspectives, I suppose."

"Exactly." Clive grinned at her. "We're on the same wave length."

Kristy glanced up at him and then shrugged again, handing him back the manuscript. Clive grinned and took it, gesturing towards his computer. "Now, these acceptance letters are the ones I like to write," he said.

Kristy nodded and turned to head for the door. "If you need anything else, just ask," she said.

"Kristy?" Clive said just before she reached his office door. Kristy paused and turned to look at him questioningly, expecting him to ask her to bring him some coffee. But what he said was, "Are you planning to attend the office party tomorrow night?"

Kristy had forgotten all about the party. One of the managing editor's was being transferred to Los Angeles and everyone wanted to give her a "going away" party. Kristy didn't know the editor from Adam, and she couldn't care less about the party. But she couldn't exactly say that. Instead, she just shrugged and said, "Oh, probably not. I have to stay home with my daughter."

Clive raised his eyebrows. "Oh? I didn't know you were married," he offered conversationally.

_That's because there's a definition of private life, _Kristy thought. But she just smiled politely and shook her head. "Not married," she replied, daring him to question the fact that she was a single mother.

But he didn't. He just smiled at her again and said, "Well, if you're able, I hope to see you there."

"Sure," Kristy answered. But when she let herself out of the office, she couldn't help but think, _In your dreams, Brighton._


	2. This is My Life

Chapter Two

Five o'clock, Monday through Friday, was Kristy's favorite time of the day. It was when she got to go home. She definitely appreciated the fact that she had a good job, but on the other hand, when she was actually _at_ work, the hours seemed to drag by. Kristy had never imagined herself as a secretary. Secretaries were either mousy, librarian types, or else they were sex kittens that only got jobs so they could hook up with rich, married men. Kristy was neither. For one thing, mousy was not exactly a word that came to mind when the name Kristy Thomas was mentioned. And for another thing, Kristy had sworn off both men and sex for as long as humanly possible. She needed a man even less than she needed sex.

When the clock ticked to five o'clock on that Monday afternoon, it was like the school bell at the end of a long day. Kristy promptly jumped up from her chair, resisting the urge to let out a whoop. She did, however, pump her fist slightly in the air.

"Win the lottery?" Clive asked from behind her. Kristy flinched and then slowly turned. He'd stuck his head out of his office door, probably to ask her for more coffee. Of course he'd caught her in the act. Why wouldn't he?

"I, uh, have to go to the bathroom," Kristy stammered as a lame explanation, and hurried away from the area before he could say anything else. Her face was burning. She suddenly thought of the time in seventh grade when she'd jumped up for joy at the last bell, and her teacher had made her write a one hundred word essay on _decorum_. Some things would never change.

In the bathroom, Kristy finished her business and then stood by one of the long mirrors, studying her reflection. She didn't particularly like what she saw there. Anyone who looked at Kristy could probably see that she'd been through a lot. Under ordinary circumstances, she would have been pretty. She dressed professionally in pants suits and dresses, and she was slender. Though she'd always been short in childhood, she'd gone through a growth spurt in tenth grade that was responsible for her height of five feet, five inches. Her brown hair was long and dark, and stylish bangs fell across her forehead and into her eyes. But her face was pale and drawn, and her eyes were dark and haunted. It wasn't that she was ugly. It was just that she was so outwardly sad.

Kristy sighed and splashed some water on her face, hoping to draw out some color. She swept her bangs aside and rubbed the water on her forehead, closing her eyes. She really needed to get a grip. She'd been living on her own for three years. The past was in the past. How come she couldn't just let it go?

Kristy reached for a paper towel and wiped off her face. Just as she was doing so, the bathroom door swung open and one of her co-workers, Lindsay Walker, sauntered in and straight over to the mirrors. "Hey, Kristy," Lindsay said flippantly, reaching into her purse for a tube of lipstick. "Ready to go home?"

"Just about," Kristy answered, studying Lindsay. Despite outward appearances, Lindsay was actually a friendly person. Kristy didn't call anyone a friend, but if she did, her list would include Lindsay. Lindsay had been at Willow Books for years, straight from high school and would probably stay until she retired. She was about twenty three, and she was friendly to everybody. She'd taken Kristy in under her wing as soon as Kristy had started, showing her around and letting her in on the ropes. At first glances, though, Lindsay looked like the sex kitten variety of secretary. She was small, shorter than Kristy, a fact that she liked to hide by wearing four inch heels every day. Her long, auburn hair was always loose and her dark blue eyes were constantly rimmed in eyeliner. Which she was touching up now.

"Me too," Lindsay responded, carefully relining her eyes in black eyeliner and then winking at her reflection. "I can't wait to get out of this stuffy office." She tossed her eyeliner back into her bag and grinned at Kristy. "Guess who has a hot date tonight."

Kristy refrained from rolling her eyes. Lindsay _always_ had a hot date. "Wouldn't be you, would it?" Kristy asked.

"You got it." Lindsay hopped onto the sinks and faced Kristy, leaning forward as if she were about to delve into some deep, dark girl secrets. "I met this guy at the bar the other night, and let me tell you, he makes even Clive Brighton look like Mickey Mouse. He used to be an Abercrombie model," Lindsay added proudly. "Now he's an actor. Loaded, if you know what I mean. If I get lucky, I can finally quit this place."

Kristy just shook her head. "Sounds great, Linds, but don't get carried away. This is, what, the tenth guy you've been interested in this year?"

Lindsay waved a manicured hand in the air. "Eleventh, but who's counting?" she replied breezily.

"You, apparently," Kristy said with a grin.

"Hey, how am I ever supposed to find _the one _if I don't browse around? You could use a little shopping spree yourself, if you know what I mean." Lindsay grinned at Kristy suggestively.

"Forget it," Kristy said, turning back to the mirror and concentrating on fixing her bangs. "I don't need a boyfriend."

"Everyone needs companionship," Lindsay said with a shrug. She jumped down from her perch on the sink, wobbling slightly as her heels hit the ground. Upon regaining her balance, she grinned. "Even you."

"Yeah, don't be such a loser," another voice contributed. Kristy looked up. She hadn't even noticed a third girl, Maria Snyder, come into the bathroom. But there she was, fixing her long dark ponytail.

Lindsay turned to her. "I didn't see you come in," she said.

"Yep, I'm here now," Maria replied, grinning. "I just felt everyone's self-esteem plummet."

Kristy had to grin, because it was true. Maria, unlike Lindsay and Kristy, was not a secretary, but one of the editors of Willow Books. She was only twenty five, but she was incredibly smart and successful. She was even pretty, with a mane of dark hair and the latest stylish outfits. But what made Maria interesting was her mouth. When Kristy was younger, everyone had told her that she had the biggest mouth in the entire state of Connecticut. Maria must not have lived in Connecticut, because her mouth was about the size of the Grand Canyon, and she'd say anything she wanted to. It wasn't that she wasn't friendly, but she had the tendency to lack any sort of tact. If there was something wrong with you, or if you said something stupid, Maria was usually the first one to point it out.

"So what's going on?" Maria asked. She finished with her ponytail and turned towards Lindsay and Kristy.

"Lindsay's got another date," Kristy explained, "and somehow she thinks that has something to do with me not having a boyfriend."

"It does," Lindsay insisted. "You look so sad all the time, Kristy. Some male companionship might cheer you up."

"Forget the male companionship," Maria tossed in. "She just needs to get laid."

Kristy rolled her eyes. "I do _not _need to get laid," she retorted. "Trust me, sex is more trouble than it's worth."

Lindsay grinned. "Have you ever _had_ sex?" she asked wickedly.

"One time too many," Kristy replied. "And I wound up with a daughter."

Lindsay winced. "Ouch."

Kristy sighed. Even though she had been at Willow Books for three years, nobody knew much about her. She'd been transferred around to different departments several times, and had only just started working with Clive a few weeks ago. And people like Lindsay and Maria, who only knew her casually, had no idea of the details of her private life. Kristy regretted saying even as much as she had so far.

"Just because you got pregnant doesn't mean you can't ever have sex again for the rest of your life," Maria pointed out.

Kristy grabbed her purse from the countertop and headed for the door. "It does for me. See you guys tomorrow." With that, she let herself out of the bathroom. She knew that Lindsay and Maria would start talking about her the minute she left, but she didn't care. She just wanted to go home.

She headed back to her desk outside of Clive's office to get the rest of her things. It was already five thirty, and she'd stayed in the bathroom for much longer than she intended. She was going to be late picking up Sarah from day care. Kristy set her bag on her desk and shuffled inside for a minute before she found her cell phone. Pulling it out, she dialed the number to Kids R' Us, the day care that she sent Sarah to every day.

"Hello, Kids R' Us," a chirpy voice answered. Kristy suddenly felt an unexpected wave of nostalgia wash over her. _Hello, Baby-sitters Club. . . . _"Hi, this is Kristy Thomas. My daughter, Sarah Thomas, is in your care today, and I'm running a little late to pick her up."

"No problem," the chirpy voice said. "Plenty of kids are still here. Take your time, Miss Thomas."

"Thanks a lot. Bye." Kristy clicked off her phone and dropped it back into her bag. Then she turned to see that Clive's office light was still on. The man was a total workaholic. He was always already in his office when Kristy arrived, and he never left before she did. Sighing, Kristy went over to the door, which was slightly ajar, and knocked. "Do you need anything?" she asked, poking her head inside.

Clive was staring at his computer screen, and he jumped slightly when Kristy spoke. He looked up at the clock and shook his head. "How did it get to be five-thirty?" he wondered aloud.

"I hear it happens every day around this time," Kristy replied.

Clive smirked at her. "Thanks for the input."

"I'm heading out," Kristy added, "so if you need anything, let me know now."

Clive glanced around his cluttered office, as if he were looking for something to send her home with. "Can you take this home and tell me what you think of it?" he said finally, picking up a manuscript from his desk and holding it out to her. Regretting even opening her mouth, Kristy reached forward and took it from him. "Sure. See you tomorrow," she replied, sticking the manuscript into her bag and turning to head out of the office. "Don't work too late."

"Don't you worry," Clive responded. Kristy rolled her eyes, closing his office door behind her. She couldn't wait to leave Willow Books. All she wanted to do was go home, do her dinner-and-bedtime routine with Sarah, and then sit on the fire escape outside her apartment, maybe with a glass of scotch. She relied heavily on her scotch.

New York City's liveliest time was rush hour. The city never slept and cars and people were out and about all night long, but rush hour was something else entirely. Cabs, buses, and cars crowded into the roads, spilling into the sidewalks and horns honked mercilessly, as if the drivers thought that by honking, they could magically part the traffic jams like the Red Sea. And the sidewalks overflowed with men and women in practical business suits, pushing past one another, rushing to dinner meetings or home to their upscale apartments, or out to the bar for a drink or three. Kristy hated rush hour. She never took taxi cabs if she could help it. Fortunately, Kids R' Us was on the same block as Willow Books, easily within walking distance. Before heading in to pick up Sarah, Kristy ducked into a small corner shop. There, she selected a new bottle of scotch, along with a pack of cigarettes and a package of cookies for Sarah. Even though she was underage for buying liquor, that particular corner shop never carded her. Cashiers didn't care who was doing what. It was very liberating.

It seemed to take forever but finally Kristy had collected Sarah and made her way back to their apartment. "Home sweet home," Kristy said to Sarah as they stood in the hallway outside the door. Kristy fumbled for her keys. Her head was pounding from all the noise down in the streets. Mercifully, her apartment was on the tenth floor of her building and the higher you got, the quieter it was.

Sarah was chatting about the daycare as Kristy let them into the apartment. "And then Miss Mazzel said that I could color, if I wanted to, and she let me color from _the Little Mermaid_ book, which you can only color from if you're an extra good girl, so are you proud of me, Mommy?"

"Very proud," Kristy replied automatically, pushing the door open with her knee and practically tumbling inside. As soon as the door was open, Sarah trotted off in the direction of the bathroom. Kristy backed into the door to close it and then set her bags down, making sure to lock the door behind her. She sighed, taking a deep breath to relax herself. Once she was shut inside of her apartment, the noise of the city seemed very far away. She took a couple of minutes to relax in the silence of her apartment, and then headed into the kitchen.

Sarah came trotting back out of the bathroom a few minutes later, chatting again. "So tomorrow I get to pick either Cinderella or Aladdin to color from, and I think I might pick Aladdin because then I'd get to color Jasmine and she's just so pretty. You look just like her, Mommy."

"That's nice, sweetie," Kristy murmured distractedly. She set her bottle of scotch on the counter, saving it for later. Then she opened the refrigerator. "What do you want for dinner, Sarah-bear?"

"Umm." Sarah hopped up to sit at the small table in the kitchen and drummed her small fingers against the top. "Grilled cheese."

"Grilled cheese," Kristy repeated, shuffling around for the food contents. She found some cheese, bread, and butter and pulled them out, setting about making sandwiches for herself and Sarah. They got through dinner and for dessert, Kristy gave Sarah the cookies she'd bought at the corner store. Finally, after they'd eaten dinner and dessert and Sarah had played with her dolls and blocks and had a bath, Kristy set about putting her to bed. It was eight o'clock, which was when Sarah always went to bed. And she was incredibly nice about it too, unlike some other brattier kids Kristy had baby-sat before, in her younger years. Kids could throw unbelievable tantrums when they didn't want to go to bed, but Sarah never had. She was Kristy's dream child.

They selected a new picture book to read, called "Wiggle's Adventures." It was based on a preschool-age television show called The Wiggles. Sarah liked to watch the TV show, so Kristy knew she'd like the book.

She was careful to make sure that Sarah understood the words on the page and what they meant. Sarah was intelligent for her age, and even though two was a bit early to learn to read, Kristy at least wanted her to understand that the letters meant something. Together, Kristy and Sarah made their way through the adventure of the Wiggles. "So in the end, Anthony found his missing pair of blue socks, and the Wiggles were once again complete," Kristy finished on the last page. She closed the book. When she looked over, she saw that Sarah had drifted off.

Kristy carefully set the book on the dresser and eased herself out of Sarah's bed. "Good night, sweetie," she said softly, and leaned down to kiss Sarah's forehead before brushing away her hair. Then she turned off the light so that Sarah's night light would shine, and she left her daughter.

After Sarah was asleep, Kristy returned to the kitchen and immediately poured herself some scotch. She didn't like to think of herself as someone who relied on alcohol, but she liked the dry, scratchy feeling she got in her throat after drinking it for awhile. She also liked the warmth of it going down her throat, and the ever-so-slightly pleasant buzzing in her head. It numbed her troubles. She took her glass and wandered out the side door to the fire escape outside her apartment. By that time, rush hour had quieted down and evening had fallen over New York. In the far west, Kristy could see just a few glimmers of purple and pink in the sky, combined with dark blue and the twinkling of millions of stars. The stars seemed distant, though, compared to the billions of lights that were lit up all around the city. People's apartments as they settled in to their evenings, offices for those who were working late, restaurants and clubs lit up for entertainment. New York was such an open book. Everything in the world was there. So why did Kristy feel so incomplete?

She sighed and finished off her glass. A dull ache was settling into her stomach, and even as a cool breeze blew back her bangs and she gazed around at the sheer beauty of the city, she couldn't push that aching feeling away.

She missed Stoneybrook.


	3. You Want Me, So You're Messed Up Too

Chapter Three

_What am I doing here? _Kristy wondered as she leaned against a wall, crossing her arms in front of her. All around her, people she barely knew were dancing, laughing, and quickly getting drunk from alcohol that flowed freely in crystal goblets. She was at the staff party for Brooke Majors, who was being transferred to Los Angeles. Of course none of the rich bigwigs at Willow Books would have a party that was anything less than spectacular. It was being held in someone's penthouse apartment, which was bigger than the mansion Kristy had lived in back in Stoneybrook. Kristy didn't even know who owned the apartment, but whoever did had expensive taste. Million-dollar art hung on the cream colored walls, black leather furniture was covered in clear plastic covers, and everywhere Kristy looked, she saw another statue or piece of art that, if sold, could probably feed an entire third-world country.

Money had never impressed Kristy. Even before she was twelve, when her mother married Watson, her rich stepfather, money had never made much of a difference to Kristy. She knew that money was essential for things like diapers and baby food and toys, and when you needed groceries or an extra bottle of wine, a little extra money was nice to have in the bank. But she didn't understand how people who made so much money would blow it on things like paintings or sculptures. Things that cost thousands of dollars just to sit in your house where they weren't really doing anything any good.

She hadn't planned on coming to the party. She had never spoken to Brooke Majors, and she didn't like parties, or hanging around listening to overdressed women with three pounds of make-up on their faces compare how much money they had. In subtle ways, of course. But Lindsay had insisted that she come. And when Kristy protested on account of Sarah, Lindsay made a phone call to her twelve year old niece who loved to baby-sit. And so Kristy found herself dressed up in clothes borrowed from Lindsay, standing alone while Lindsay made out with her latest flavor-of-the-week out on the dance floor. Music was booming loudly and from the dim lights and the bodies, it was more like a club than someone's home.

Kristy adjusted herself uncomfortably. Even though she had to dress up for work, Kristy's style was still pretty casual. She preferred pants suits for the office, and when she was at home, she was always in jeans or sweatpants and a t-shirt. She didn't even think she owned anything else. Lindsay had insisted that dressing up was the most fun part, and that was why Kristy was now wearing a pair of designer jeans with amethyst stones sewn onto the pockets, along with a shimmering amethyst halter top and a pair of white stiletto heels. Her hair was up in a bun with her bangs hanging loose, but Kristy could already feel the bun wilting from the heat. She was bored out of her skull.

She cast one more disgusted look at Lindsay and then turned, heading for the bathroom. She'd fix her hair and take off her stupid shoes and then she'd get the hell out of there. She must have been suffering from temporary insanity to allow Lindsay to talk her into coming here. Just so that Lindsay could end up ditching her. Some friend.

When Kristy pushed open the bathroom door, she heard a gasp. Then she felt her face go white. A man and a woman were in the bathroom, doing more than making out. A lot more. The woman's skirt (which wasn't very long to begin with) was pushed up, and they were both sweaty. Kristy's eyes widened and then she managed to move herself enough to back up and slam the door closed again. There, she stood staring at the closed door in total shock. She'd never seen something like that. It was the kind of thing you would expect at a high school or a college party. Not at a party thrown by editors and executives that was supposed to be sophisticated. "Gross," Kristy muttered when she felt recovered enough to speak. So much for going to the bathroom.

"Oh well," Kristy murmured. "I'll just go home."

As she started to make her way back to the entrance, she bumped into a guy dressed in black pants and a white shirt, carrying a tray of drinks. Kristy paused, surprised at the way her mouth instantly watered when she saw the glasses on the tray. Strawberry dacquiris, elegantly made, topped in whipped cream. It was a harmless drink. Maybe it would take the edge off of her nerves.

The waiter held the tray to her. "Drink, ma'am?" he offered politely.

Kristy bit her lip, then decided that one drink wouldn't hurt. "Sure," she said, and took a glass from the tray. The waiter went on his way. Kristy took a sip from her foamy drink and decided to head outside to the balcony. She couldn't see anyone out there. She would sit and finish her drink, and then she'd go home.

Kristy had to admit that the balcony was impressive, much more impressive than her own fire escape. There were double French doors along one wall, decorated with white lace curtains. Kristy stepped outside and immediately felt a cool breeze across her face. The balcony was intricately built, complete with a ceramic-tiled floor and white ivory posts. A few ivy vines twisted around the posts, and a few rosebushes sat off to the side, giving off a sweet perfume. Kristy closed the door behind her, closing off the sound of the loud music and voices inside. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, immediately feeling calmer. From this high up, she couldn't even hear the noises from the city below, aside from the faint sounds of a police siren. In New York, there were always police sirens.

"I didn't expect to see anyone else out here," a voice said. A voice with a British accent. Kristy immediately tensed up again and opened her eyes, turning to see Clive standing off to the side, smoking a cigarette.

"Sorry, I didn't think anyone else was out here," Kristy replied, taking a backwards step. She'd rather be back inside than out with Clive.

"You don't have to leave," Clive said, as if he were reading her mind.

Kristy tried to bluff. "It's a little chilly out here," she said.

"Well, here." Clive put out his cigarette and stepped towards her, offering her the light coat that he was wearing. Kristy stood stiffly as he set it around her shoulders. "Thanks," she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I thought you weren't going to be able to make it," Clive went on, smiling at her. "I'm glad that you did."

"Well, my so-called friend talked me into it," Kristy said, casting an unconscious glare towards the party.

Clive cocked his head to the side. "So-called, eh? A falling out?"

Kristy sighed. "She said it was important for me to be here, and then as soon as we arrived, she went to make-out with her date. And I don't really know anyone else."

Clive was still smiling. "Ah, well, the better for me, don't you think?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She _knew_ it! He was nothing but a womanizing playboy

Clive shrugged. "It just means I get to enjoy the pleasure of your company."

Kristy shot him a thin, tight smile. "Actually, I'm heading home. I just stepped out for a minute, that's all."

She took a sip of her drink, trying to ignore his eyes on her and the feel of his coat against her bare back. She could smell cologne on the coat. Expensive cologne. For a brief moment, she imagined standing close enough to Clive to smell that same cologne on his body. She shook her head to rid herself of the thought.

He was still studying her. "You are a mystery," he said finally.

Kristy drank some more. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"You've been at Willow Books for three years, am I right?" When Kristy nodded, he went on, "Yet nobody seems to know much about you."

"I like to keep my private life separate from my professional life," Kristy answered with a shrug. Which was the polite way of saying that it wasn't any of his business.

Clive nodded. "I understand that. But you've been working with me for almost a month now and I still don't know very much about you. It just makes me wonder if I ever will."

Kristy finished off her drink and set her glass on the outside table. Plenty of other glasses were there already, so she didn't feel bad about it. "Well, don't count on it," she replied bluntly. This guy just wasn't getting the hint. She took his coat off and handed it back to him. "See you at work tomorrow," she added frostily, before turning and letting herself back into the apartment.

Kristy wasn't stupid. Clive was interested in her in more than a professional way. She could see it in the way that he looked at her. It wasn't any kind of lustful look. It was more of a genuine interest in her romantically. _Well, uh uh, no way, no how, not happening._ Kristy kept denying him in her head as she made her way through the party-goers and to the door. She grabbed her own jacket from the hook on the door and put it on, then let herself out of the penthouse. Her heels clicked against the floor as she marched towards the elevator. Kristy was not going to get involved with someone like Clive Brighton. He was a successful businessman, and everyone knew what businessmen were really like. They acted like they were interested, until they'd had their fill of sexual satisfaction. Then they left you high and dry. Well, Kristy wasn't going to be a victim. She would _never _be a victim again.

She kept thinking that all the way back to her apartment.

When she got home, she found Emily, Lindsay's niece, and Sarah in front of the DVD player, watching an animated movie. "I'm home!" she announced.

"Mommy!" Sarah jumped up from the ground and ran over to Kristy, hugging her knees. Kristy bent down and lifted Sarah up. Sarah was still light enough, even if she was two, to be carried easily. "Did you have fun?" Kristy asked her.

"Uh huh." Sarah's blonde pigtails bobbed up and down as she nodded her head. "We had a movie party."

Kristy glanced at Emily quizzically. Emily turned off the DVD player and grinned. "It was my idea," she said. "We've been watching movies all night. I told Sarah it would be like a night out at the movies, and I made popcorn and gave her juice. I hope that's okay."

"Sure, that's fine," Kristy responded. She didn't let Sarah spent too much time in front of the TV, but she supposed one night wouldn't hurt Sarah's budding intellect.

Kristy set Sarah back down and opened her purse, fishing out some money for Emily. "Do you need to be walked home?" Kristy offered after she paid Emily.

Emily shook her head, sticking the money in the back of her jeans pocket. "No thanks, Ms. Thomas. I live in the next building over. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Feel free to call me anytime." She flashed a grin, and Kristy noticed that she had a tooth missing. She suddenly looked so young, with her straight brown hair cut in bangs. "I love to baby-sit," Emily added. "And Sarah's such a doll."

Kristy had a sudden flash of nostalgia. _She reminds me of me, _Kristy realized.

"Sure, Emily," Kristy responded, shaking the thought from her head. She managed a friendly smile.

Emily waved and headed out the door, and Kristy made sure to lock it up behind her. Then she turned to Sarah. "Ready for bed?" she asked brightly, taking off her coat.

"Can I finish the movie?" Sarah asked hopefully.

"Tomorrow," Kristy promised automatically. "It's too late tonight." She made her face stern as she slipped out of the four-inch stiletto heels. "Much past your bedtime, young lady."

"Please please please?" Sarah attempted.

Kristy shook her head. "No way, Jose."

"Okay." Sarah stuck out her bottom lip, but she did turn and start heading for the bedroom. Kristy followed her and helped her change into her pajamas and get tucked into bed. Sarah laid down while Kristy read another Wiggles book to her. The movies must have tired her out because she was asleep halfway through it. Kristy finished the book anyway, and then closed it and left it on the nightstand. She gave Sarah a quick kiss on the forehead and then turned out the light.

Kristy went to her own bedroom. She liked her bedroom. She'd fixed it up with odds and ends that she found in thrift stores, to cut down on costs. Stuffed animals and fluffy pillows rested on the bed, and ancient sports memorabilia hung from the walls, alongside funny little decorations and some collages she'd made herself, of magazine cutout quotes and pictures. Just beside her TV table was a bookshelf. Kristy crossed the room to the bookshelf in her bare feet, kneeling down to look at the selections. There weren't a whole lot. A few romance novels, a sports almanac, and a copy of _Wasted, _by Marya Hornbacher, that she'd read in high school and had ever since loved. Marya reminded her so much of herself. Not in the eating disorder sense, but the fact that Marya was so driven, so manic. At least, it was how Kristy used to be.

Beside the books was a shoebox. Kristy knew what was in the shoebox. It was the only personal thing that she'd taken with her, that she had been able to fit in her bag from Stoneybrook. Gingerly, Kristy picked up the shoebox and carried it over to her bed.

Inside, she found two thick notebooks. One was her club notebook; the other was the club record book. In middle school, Kristy had been president of a club called the Baby-sitters Club. All the girls in the club, Kristy's closest friends, loved to baby-sit, and the point of the club was to allow parents to reach several baby-sitters at one number without having to call all over town. Maybe it was a little goofy, or maybe it was a genius idea. Either way, the times Kristy had spent with the club were some of the best times of her life. Kristy thumbed through the club notebook, where each member had to write about her baby-sitting experiences. The pages were yellowed with age and the handwriting was smudged, but it was still all there. Kristy gazed over the entries, recognizing a lot of her own writing. She smiled to herself. The club had been laid to rest in high school, but Kristy had kept these things as memories.

Putting the notebooks aside, she peered further into the box and found a picture album. Pictures. Kristy felt a lump in her throat as she opened the album. The first photo she came across was her seventh grade school picture. Taken right before she'd given up on dressing up for school and began dressing like the tomboy she was. In this picture, she was wearing a pleated, navy blue skirt along with a white blouse, knee socks, and Mary Janes. Her long, straight brown hair hung down her back and was held back with a navy headband. Her wide smile showed that she was missing a tooth, just like Emily was now. The picture had been taken on the first day of school, just before the birth of the BSC. Turning the pages, Kristy saw more pictures. Herself dressed in her softball uniform. Her best friend, Mary Anne, just after she'd cut off all of her hair. Claudia Kishi, dressed in a painter's smock and grinning for the camera, her arm around Stacey McGill, who was smiling like a model. Kristy's mother and stepfather, her brothers, her younger stepsister Karen. Her dog Louie, who had died when Kristy was in eighth grade.

So many memories. Kristy sighed and closed the photo album, sticking the things back into the shoebox. She hadn't opened the box in years, and now she remembered why. The nostalgia was too thick, so thick that it suffocated her. She shoved the shoebox back down on the bookshelf and sighed, flipping back on the bed. She needed to stop yearning for the past. She had to accept her decisions and move on. It was her and Sarah now, two against the world. Nobody else could come in. And that went for her thoughts as well.

Sighing again, Kristy stood up and took off Lindsay's jeans and halter top. She'd return them tomorrow. Right now, all she wanted to do was sleep. In just her underwear, Kristy wrapped herself up in her thick comforter and laid down in the bed, among her pillows and stuffed animals. Closing her eyes, she drifted into a troubled sleep.


	4. My Broken Heart Just Has No Use

Chapter Four

The next morning, Clive was cold to Kristy. When she arrived, he didn't come out of his office to say hello like he usually did. Instead, she found a list on her desk of the things that he needed her to do that day. Kristy felt a strange mixture of both relief and disappointment. She decided to ignore the situation and focused on her work. At lunchtime, she took her brown bag down to the employee break room, which thankfully was empty. Not too many people ate in the break room; rather, they preferred to hurry down to a diner or restaurant for lunch. Kristy took out her salad and diet Coke and began to eat.

While she was eating, Lindsay came down to the break room. "Hey, where did you disappear to last night?" Lindsay asked breezily as she sat down at the table with a bag of her own. Kristy watched as she unwrapped a tuna sandwich and a snack bag of potato chips.

"Well, I didn't have anyone to talk to," Kristy said pointedly, "so I went home."

Lindsay sighed. "Oh, Kristy, I'm sorry about that, but Brent was just all over me and what was I supposed to do?"

Kristy rolled her eyes. "Whatever. It doesn't matter."

"You aren't mad, are you?"

"No, not at all." But she was. "I brought your clothes. They're up in my office. I can give them back to you after lunch."

"Sure." Lindsay bit into her tuna sandwich and began talking about her fabulous night with Brent, the latest in Lindsay's search for the right man. Kristy tuned her out. She couldn't believe how immature these people were. Clive, who hit on her like she was some cheerleader and he was the star quarterback. Couples going for a quickie in private bathrooms. And Lindsay . . . It was amazing she didn't have any children or STD's yet. Though Kristy wasn't too sure about the STD part.

Ugh. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Kristy finished off her salad and then tossed her things into the garbage can, getting up in the middle of one of Lindsay's sentences. "See you," Kristy called over her shoulder as she swung out of the break room. She had fifteen minutes left on her lunch hour, enough time to sit outside and take a breather.

Kristy took the elevator to the bottom floor and headed out the door of Willow Books. Outside, she sat down on the front stoop and took a deep breath. The air was just beginning to smell of fall. It was the middle of September, the beginning of Kristy's favorite time of year. The leaves would begin to turn brown and amber, and there was a certain crispness in the air. Christmas would be there before she knew it. Despite everything else, Kristy did love Christmas in New York. There were lights and decorations absolutely everywhere, along with bell-ringing Santa's and Christmas carolers. Kristy thought of the previous Christmas. She'd spent the money from her Christmas bonus on buying Sarah brand new toys and books. She wanted to make sure that Sarah had a good Christmas. After Sarah opened her presents, they'd spent the day inside watching Christmas movies and drinking hot chocolate (chocolate milk for Sarah). Sarah didn't understand a whole lot about Christmas. Maybe this year she would, though.

_"Kristy?"_

Kristy's head jerked up at the sound of a vaguely familiar female voice. It wasn't Lindsay or Maria. She saw a blonde woman striding towards her purposefully. _Oh, shit_, Kristy thought, frantically grabbing a pair of sunglasses from her inside jacket pocket. She put the sunglasses on--they were big, movie-star glasses that took up most of her face--and brushed her bangs even more into her eyes than they usually were.

"Kristy Thomas, is that you?" The girl, who Kristy now clearly recognized as Stacey McGill, had almost reached her. Kristy jumped to her feet and started to turn back into Willow Books, but Stacey caught up to her and grabbed her arm, whirling her around. Kristy prayed that the sunglasses wouldn't give away the details of her face. "Kristy," Stacey demanded again, but now she looked uncertain. It was the uncertainty that gave Kristy a little more confidence. She still had a chance.

_"Pardonez-moi," _Kristy murmured, taking her arm back and turning her face away. _"Non parlez-vous Englais."_

"Oh." Stacey was still staring at her. "I'm sorry." She let go of Kristy's arm and Kristy turned and flew back into the entrance of Willow Books. As soon as the front entrance was shut tight behind her, Kristy took a few deep breaths, turning to look cautiously behind her. Through the tinted doors, she could see Stacey still standing on the sidewalk, peering after her. But after a moment, Stacey shook her head and turned and walked away.

__

Kristy's heart was racing so fast that it physically made her weak. She put a hand up to her chest, feeling the pounding. Her head throbbed. Had Stacey really recognized her? Had she bought the fake French? Kristy had taken a year of French in high school. She never thought she'd actually use it. Oh, God, what if Stacey recognized her anyway?

__

Stacey McGill had been one of Kristy's best friends since seventh grade, and all the way through high school. Stacey had lived in Manhattan until she was in seventh grade, and when her parents divorced, her father stayed in the city. Stacey visited him all the time. Or maybe Stacey lived in New York now, too. Kristy didn't know. All she knew was that it was possible that Stacey had recognized her. And Stacey would tell her best friend, Claudia, who would tell Mary Anne, Kristy's former best friend, and word might get back to her parents that Kristy was possibly in New York City.

Oh, God.

The secretary was staring at Kristy. "Is everything okay, Ms. Thomas?" she asked, raising one eyebrow. Kristy realized that she was still standing there, breathing heavily, her sunglasses still on. Kristy took a deep, calming breath, taking off her sunglasses. "Uh, yeah, I'm just . . . I'm fine," Kristy stammered, hurrying towards the elevator. She had to go home. She was way too nervous to stay at work.

Upstairs, Kristy tapped on the door to Clive's office. "Come in," he called.

Kristy stuck her head in. When Clive looked up, his eyebrows raised. "Help you with something?" he asked.

"I need to go home," Kristy said.

"Oh?"

"Yes." Kristy's mind worked fast. "Something I ate at lunch must have made me sick. I feel nauseous." Which was actually true. The nauseous part, anyway.

Clive studied her for a minute, then nodded. Her pale, sweaty appearance must have worked to her advantage because he must have believed her. "All right then, Kristy," he said finally. "Call me in the morning to let me know if you'll be back tomorrow."

"Sure," Kristy agreed hurriedly. "Thanks." She shut the door and hurried back to her desk. She gathered her things into her bag and headed out of the office. Keeping her head ducked low, she took the elevator back down to the third floor. Just before exiting the building, she put her sunglasses back on and added a scarf around her head. Then, taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the streets.

Fortunately, Stacey was no longer there. Nor did anyone appear to be paying any close attention as Kristy made her way down the sidewalk. Still, she kept her head low and avoided looking at anyone directly. Her heart pounded the entire time that she was on the street, until she made her way to her apartment building. Taking a quick glance around to make sure that no one was watching her, she ducked inside.

Only when she was safe inside her apartment and her door had been locked behind her did Kristy's pulse slow down. She took several deep breaths before she took off her sunglasses and her scarf. Then she sank down into the big armchair in her foyer and dropped her head into her hands, squeezing her eyes shut.

What if Stacey didn't buy her "I don't speak English" bit? What if Stacey even suspected, and she told someone else her suspicions? Would they track her down through Willow Books? Would her mother and Watson come pounding on her door, wanting an explanation along with the stolen money? Would they take Sarah away from her?

_Calm down, Thomas, calm down, _Kristy told herself. _Think about this rationally_. Yes, Stacey had seen her. But she hadn't gotten a good look at her face. For all Stacey knew, she ran into a French girl who looked like Kristy from a distance. Maybe she'd mention it to someone, but maybe she brushed it off.

Kristy needed a drink. A strong drink. She went into her kitchen and poured herself the last bit of scotch from the bottle she'd bought the other day and downed it all in a couple of gulps. Her head instantly began to pound from the alcohol, but her heart slowed down slightly and quickly, the familiar feeling of being buzzed began to take over her. She needed some more alcohol. Searching through her cabinets, she found half-finished bottles of vodka and rum, and one unopened bottle of champagne that her last supervisor had given her the previous Christmas. Kristy took the champagne bottle, along with a bag of potato chips, some dip, and a bottle of plain water into her bedroom. She glanced at the clock. Sarah would need to be picked up from daycare in about four hours. That was plenty of time. Kristy kicked off her high heels and removed her blazer, tossing it onto the floor. Wearing her work pants and the tank top she'd put on under her blazer, Kristy crawled into bed with the potato chips and the champagne. She used her remote and flicked on the television set, tuning into a corny soap opera. She shoved a few chips into her mouth and then swigged back the champagne bottle, preparing to get good and _relaxed._

Something was buzzing. Kristy frowned, shaking from a slightly drowsy sleep. Suddenly her eyes fell on the digital clock next to her bed, and she snapped fully awake. _Oh, my God! _she thought, sitting straight up. _Oh, my God,_ she thought again, except this time the thought was out of pain. As soon as she sat up, her head began pounding. Peering again at the clock, which read 42 minutes after five, she saw that she'd polished off most of the bottle of champagne. Mumbling a few choice swear words under her breath, Kristy struggled to get out of bed. She was supposed to have picked up Sarah almost forty-five minutes ago. The daycare closed at 6pm. Suddenly she realized that it was her telephone that had been buzzing. They were probably trying to call. Kristy was never late.

Shoot, shoot, shoot. Kristy stumbled to her feet, but apparently, the alcohol in her system had done quite a job of knocking her out. Kristy cursed herself as she stumbled across the room, grabbing her blazer jacket and tossing it on over her camisole. She didn't bother with heels; instead, she stuck her stocking feet into the first pair of sneakers that she saw. How could she be so irresponsible? And how in the hell was she going to make it downtown when she could barely make it around her apartment. Her head was pounding so hard that it made it hard for Kristy to see. Her drunkenness, combined with her nap, made for a pretty bad hangover. She managed to make it to the living room before the apartment began to spin. Groaning, Kristy collapsed onto the couch, her face falling into a soft cushion. It was no use. She'd never make it to the daycare in one piece. She'd never get Sarah back safely. Sighing, she attempted to stretch to the table beside the couch, where she kept her phone. She'd call the daycare. Someone could bring Sarah home.

But she couldn't even remember the number. Tears of frustration and self-loathing filled Kristy's eyes and she blinked them away. If she could make it across the room to the kitchen. All her phone numbers were listed on the refrigerator. . .

But before she could even get off the couch, she suddenly heard someone knocking on the door. And then she heard Sarah's voice. "Mommy! Open the door!"

Sarah! What in the world---? With a surge of adrenaline, Kristy forced herself off of the couch and stumbled over to the door. It took her a few minutes, but she managed to unlock all the locks on the door. Then she pulled the door open.

Standing there was none other than Clive Brighton.

"Clive?" Kristy mumbled, surprised. Clive looked concerned, and Kristy's gaze fell to Sarah, who was contentedly being held in Clive's arms. "Mommy!" Sarah cried.

"Sarah," Kristy whispered. Suddenly the earth began spinning rapidly and Kristy's head felt heavy, as if a weight were pressing down on her. As her vision began to go dark, she felt herself crumpling to the floor.

When Kristy woke up, she was aware of two feelings. The first was a physical pain. Her head was still pounding and she was dizzy. But the second feeling was much worse: pure, complete embarrassment.

She slowly realized that she was laying down on the couch again, this time on her back. Something cold was on her forehead. As her vision cleared, she saw herself gazing into the bluest pair of eyes that she'd ever seen in her life. For a moment, the intensity in his gaze made her even more dizzy. But then she realized that it was Clive, and her embarrassment greatened. Clive _Brighton_, her boss, the sexiest and one of the most powerful men at her office, a man who she felt nothing but contempt for, was sitting carefully on the edge of Kristy's second-hand, flowered couch, holding a cold cloth to her forehead.

"Clive," she said weakly, "What happened?"

"You fainted," Clive explained, his face still concerned.

Suddenly, Kristy remembered Sarah. "Oh, my God!" She started to sit straight up, but Clive caught her shoulders and gently pushed her back down. "Where's Sarah?" she demanded.

"Sarah's fine," Clive assured her. "She's watching a movie."

It was only then that Kristy realized their conversation was being accompanied by a Disney soundtrack. Kristy let out a slow sigh of relief. Then she froze again. "Wait a minute. How in the hell did you get Sarah here?"

Clive grinned. "The daycare called the office," he explained. "I was just heading out when the phone rang. It's a good thing I picked up. The receptionist was quite worried when you didn't arrive to pick up Sarah. She said she tried to call here but you weren't answering. I explained that you'd gone home sick at lunchtime and perhaps were napping. So I swung by and picked Sarah up."

Kristy should have been relieved, but she was outraged. "Are you trying to tell me that that daycare just _handed_ my daughter over to a complete stranger?"

Clive laughed. "I had to show all sorts of identification and verification that I was who I said I was."

"Well, I still don't like that," Kristy said with a sigh. "But I suppose I should thank you for bringing her home. I was just attempting to figure out how to get there when you arrived."

"I imagined," he said, gesturing towards her sneakers and hastily buttoned blazer.

Kristy's head was beginning to clear, and she wondered just how long she had been conked out for. She glanced up at Clive again, startled to find his eyes still trained steadily on hers. "Are you all right?" he asked gently, and for the first time, his accent appealed to Kristy. Slightly.

Shaking her head to clear it, Kristy nodded and attempted to sit up. This time, with his help, Clive let her. Sitting up didn't make her feel as dizzy as it had before. Kristy decided that the alcohol must have been wearing off. "I'm all right," she said.

"Would you like me to stay awhile?" Clive offered.

"No, no," Kristy said hurriedly. "Thanks. But I'll be all right. I don't want to keep you, after you've done enough. I'm just going to put Sarah to bed early and then crash for awhile."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." Kristy managed to get to her feet and offered him a tight smile. She was growing increasingly agitated by his presence. He smelled like cologne, again, and it was affecting her more than the alcohol. She needed him gone. Now.

"All right," Clive agreed, rising to his feet as well. He set the cold cloth down on the coffee table and turned to face her. "If you want to take tomorrow off as well, it's fine. Just make sure you get better."

His concern and consideration was almost . . . kind? Could a man like Clive really be genuinely kind? She eyed him, looking for any sign of mockery. But there was none.

"Thanks," she said finally. "And thanks again for. . .everything."

Clive smiled. "Don't mention it."

After he was gone, Kristy dropped back onto the couch, letting her head fall into her hands. She couldn't believe she had been so irresponsible. She, Kristy Thomas. Kristy Thomas was the most responsible woman in the universe. Or at least, she used to be. Now here she was, drinking her afternoon away into oblivion and forgetting to pick up her daughter from daycare. Not to mention humiliating herself in front of her boss. What was happening to her? Was her life really that bad?

"Sarah," she called weakly. "Let's have dinner and get ready for bed."

She would have time to think later.


	5. Lock Up My Secrets

Chapter Five

Even though she wasn't really sick, Kristy took the next day off from work. She dropped Sarah off at daycare and then returned to her apartment. She didn't need to rest, but she needed to get in control. The previous day had given her a serious reality check. If she kept going the way that she was, then something worse could happen, worse than forgetting to pick Sarah up from daycare. Even that was pretty bad. Kristy didn't know what she would have done if Clive hadn't have picked her up.

Speaking of which, Kristy was going to look into a new daycare. She didn't like that the people there would hand over her daughter to Clive, no matter who he said he was or how professional he looked in his thousand-dollar suit.

As soon as Kristy got back to her apartment, she set about cleaning up. She couldn't concentrate when there were dirty dishes in the sink cluttering her brain. She put Sarah's toys away and straightened the living room, and then sat down at the small kitchen table with a cup of soothing tea. She needed peace and quiet, and plenty of space to think.

First of all, why had Stacey scared her so much? Yes, she didn't want to be discovered. She had been in hiding for three years. But maybe more importantly, what did she think was going to happen if she was discovered? The worst that her mother and Watson could do was disown her. She was living completely alone already, so her life wouldn't change at all. Kristy supposed it was more than that. While she hated the worry that she must have caused her parents, she could deal with them thinking she had run away. What she couldn't deal with was them knowing why. She didn't want them to know that she had gone and done what every mother warned her daughter not to do: given in to the first guy that she ever had a real connection with. Given up something that was supposed to be precious. Gotten pregnant at seventeen. When Kristy imagined their reactions, she flinched. They would be so disappointed in her. Kristy Thomas, straight-A student, destined to go places, had become a single teen mother. Nothing more than a statistic. She_ couldn't _deal with that.

And yet on the other hand, Kristy had also never been more lonely in her life than she was then. Sarah helped, but Kristy desperately missed the friends and family she'd taken for granted for so long. Seeing Stacey had triggered memories upon memories, thoughts that had kept her awake, tossing and turning and longing. It made her wonder: was she doing the right thing? She was protecting her honor, at the sake of her happiness. It didn't seem to make sense.

Kristy's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing. Kristy blinked, and then headed over to the couch with her tea. Settling down, she picked up the cordless phone. Nobody knew her number but someone from work, or the daycare. Expecting maybe Clive, she answered. "Hello?"'

"Hello, may I speak to Kristy Thomas?" It was a vaguely familiar female voice. Someone from the daycare. Was Sarah sick?

"This is she," Kristy answered. "Can I help you?"

The person on the other end of the phone let out a low breath. "It's Stacey McGill."

Kristy almost dropped the phone. Despite the longing she'd felt, her heart immediately started racing and her first instinct was to hang up. But Stacey had her number. _How? _She'd just call back. Kristy's mouth felt like sawdust. She opened it to reply, but no sound came out.

"Kristy?" Stacey went on. "Are you there?"

"H-how did you get this number?" Kristy finally managed to demand.

There was a muffled sob on the other end, as if Stacey had started to cry. "Oh, it's really you," Stacey said. "I can't believe it, Kristy."

"Stacey," Kristy said slowly, taking a deep breath to calm her frayed, racing nerves, "_how did you get this number_?"

Stacey sniffled. "I saw you yesterday. Well I thought it was you until you told me you didn't speak English. But I thought to myself, the girl I saw looked too much like you for me to just write it off as coincidence. And you were outside of Willow Books. Today I called and asked for you, they told me you were out sick and a receptionist gave me your number."

_What is it with these New Yorkers? _Kristy fumed, furious now. First the daycare gave her daughter to a stranger, and now the receptionist had given her private phone number out. _What the hell?_

"Oh, Kristy, I'm so glad you're all right," Stacey went on, crying again. "I thought it was too good to be true, but it's really you. Everyone has been so worried about you. We thought you were dead!"

"I am," Kristy snapped, her fury taking control over her emotions. "Don't ever call here again." She pressed the hang-up button on the phone, wishing that she had a good, old-fashioned phone with a cradle that she could slam the receiver into. Her heart was pounding like a jackhammer. Forget being lonely. Stacey knew where she worked and she had her phone number. The first thing she had to do was disconnect her phone. Then she had to quit Willow Books and leave New York City. Apparently, even New York wasn't big enough. Maybe she should leave the country.

Immediately, the phone rang again. Kristy answered. "Hello?"

"Kristy, don't hang up," Stacey said immediately. "Whatever reason you're hiding from everyone, let me say that I didn't say anything. I wanted to find our for myself if it was really you before I opened my mouth. Nobody knows, if that's what you're afraid of. Can you please _talk _to me?"

Kristy let out a low, long breath, her pulse slowing down. Stacey hadn't told anyone. For a moment, Kristy pondered Stacey's words. Could she really trust Stacey?

"Okay," she said finally. "What do you want?"

"I just want to talk," Stacey said. "I just . . . I need to talk."

"About what?" Kristy asked.

"You know about what," Stacey replied. "Kristy, we've been friends since forever. Now that I know you're alive, I want to see you. Can we talk in person?" When Kristy didn't answer, Stacey went on, "I promise that whatever secret you have is safe with me."

Kristy sighed. Her cover was already blown, at least as far as Stacey was concerned. Maybe fate was intervening. At any rate, if she didn't see Stacey, Stacey would probably spill the beans all over the place.

"All right," Kristy answered finally. "Come to my apartment."

After she gave Stacey her address, she hung up the phone and went into her bedroom to change her clothes. She had been wearing a loose pair of sweatpants and a tank top, her feet bare. She slipped her feet into a pair of socks and pulled a sweatshirt over her head. Then she brushed out her hair and rubbed a small amount of gloss over her lips. She didn't want to look like a bag lady when she saw Stacey.

Not twenty minutes later, someone knocked on the door and called, "It's me, Stacey," so Kristy knew it was safe to open the door.

Once again, Kristy was face-to-face with her childhood friend. Stacey hadn't changed a bit in the last three years. She was model-tall and slender, her skin lightly tanned as if she had been away at the beach all summer. Her honey-blonde hair was glazed with platinum highlights that contrasted strikingly with her bright blue eyes. And she was dressed to kill in a pair of brown leather pants and a ruffled white top underneath a long, beige coat with brown leather buttons. Immediately, Kristy felt incredibly inferior to the beautiful woman. Nevertheless, she opened the door for her friend and stepped aside to let her in.

"Ohmigod," Stacey said immediately, as soon as she had stepped inside and Kristy closed the door behind her. Right away, Stacey leaned forward and wrapped Kristy in a tight hug. "I can't believe it's really you."

Kristy couldn't help a small smile. Even though she'd been friends with Stacey since they were twelve, they had never been all that close until their junior year of high school. That was the year they'd both been in the drama club, and all the extra time spent together and formed quickly into a friendship that had been stronger than perhaps it had been in all their other years combined.

"You look amazing," Kristy commented, taking in Stacey's appearance again.

"Thanks," Stacey said, stepping back to take off her coat, while scrutinizing Kristy. "You look . . .sad."

"Thanks," Kristy answered sarcastically, turning away and heading for the couch. Stacey followed her after hanging her coat on the rack and they sat down.

"The security in this building stinks," Stacey commented as she settled into the comfortable cushions. "Your buzzer was broken and some kid just let me right in. You should really have that checked out."

Kristy let out a short, harsh laugh. "Apparently _security_ isn't something that you New Yorkers seem to care too much about."

Stacey bit her lip and reached over, laying her hand on Kristy's arm. Kristy looked down at Stacey's elegant hand, with her manicured fingernails and jeweled rings. Kristy's own hands had never been so polished. Her fingers were small and her nails were always bitten to the quick.

"Kristy," Stacey said softly, "if it were anyone else, I'd brush off the incident. I'd forget that I saw you. But this isn't right. Here you are, living in this apartment and being totally secretive, playing dead, and you look as if you've gone through World War Three. I've never seen someone with such a haunted look." Stacey looked Kristy straight in the eye. "What's going on?"

Normally, Kristy was tough. She'd been that way all her life. She hadn't even cried when Steven had dumped her. She'd straightened her slender shoulders and done what she'd needed to do. Or at least, what she felt she needed to do at the time.

But sitting here, in the presence of someone so familiar, with all the cards on the table, suddenly Kristy was struck with an incredible sense of reality. Harsh reality. And suddenly, she found herself in tears.

Stacey pulled her into a hug and said comforting things, but all Kristy could do was sob. Stacey handed her some tissues and finally, Kristy had calmed down enough to speak. "I wanted people to think I disappeared," Kristy said finally, her voice shaky. "I was ashamed of myself and I wanted to just be a memory. That way, people would remember the old Kristy Thomas. Not me."

"You're not making sense," Stacey pointed out. "What do you mean? What could you possibly be ashamed of?"

Kristy took a deep breath. "Remember my old boyfriend? Steven?"

"Who could forget Steven?" Stacey let out a small laugh. "Nobody was ever sure what had happened between the two of you because he never acted upset that you were gone. The police even suspected that he had something to do with your disappearance. But that blew over."

Kristy sighed. "I'm not surprised that he didn't care."

"Why not?"

"He told me never to speak to him again after he found out that I was pregnant," Kristy blurted out.

Stacey's eyes widened. "Pregnant? But. . .how?"

"The usual way," Kristy responded sarcastically, shaking her head. "I was so stupid, Stacey. Steven told me that he loved me. . . and I believed him."

Stacey shook her head. "That's not stupid, Kristy," she said softly.

Kristy shrugged. "At any rate, I got pregnant, and when I told Steven, he said he wanted nothing to do with me or the baby." Kristy went on, spilling out the whole story. How she'd stolen money from Watson, how she'd run to the place where it was easy to get lost in the shuffle. How she'd been working as a glorified secretary. Sarah.

When she was finished, Stacey's eyes were flashing. "I can't believe that Steven would be so cruel," she said angrily. "He always seemed like such a nice guy. How awful that he never took any responsibility. He probably knew why you ran away and he never said anything! To anyone. He never gave any indication that he knew anything."

Kristy shrugged. "Well, like I said, I'm not surprised."

Stacey shook her head. "Oh, Kristy, I can't believe all you've been through. Raising a daughter by yourself, being so alone for all this time." Then she brightened. "But you aren't alone anymore. I'm sure that if you go to Stoneybrook and explain to Watson and your mother--"

"Whoa!" Kristy cut her off sharply. "No, Stacey. I am not going back to Stoneybrook. The only reason I confided in you was because you said you hadn't told anyone. You _can't _tell anybody where I am."

"But don't you want to go home?" Stacey asked. "Have Sarah meet your parents? You could get help, you could be surrounded by your friends. Having a daughter is nothing to be ashamed of, Kristy."

"It is to me," Kristy snapped. "I'm not ashamed of Sarah, but I _am _ashamed of being irresponsible." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she looked directly into Stacey's icy blue gaze. "Trust me, Stacey. You can't tell _anyone_. Please."

Stacey returned her gaze for a few moments in silence. Kristy's gaze never wavered. Finally, Stacey sighed and nodded. "Okay, Kristy. Your secret is safe with me."


	6. I've Waited All my Life to Find You

Chapter Six

Once they got past Kristy's story, she realized that she was dying to know what was going on in Stoneybrook since she had left. Stacey was only too happy to fill in the missing details.

"I see Mary Anne pretty often," Stacey commented. Mary Anne Spier had been Kristy's very best friend. "She's in a few classes with me at NYU. In fact I just went to coffee with her the day before yesterday."

Kristy smiled wistfully. "She always did love New York," she remembered. Mary Anne had a passion for big cities, celebrities, and glitz. Surprisingly, she was also extremely shy, so she would probably never become a celebrity herself. She just liked them.

"She loves it even more that she lives here," Stacey agreed. "Oh! I can't believe I almost forgot to tell you!" Stacey took a deep breath and paused for dramatic suspense before she spoke again. "Claudia's getting married!"

"What?" Kristy's mouth dropped open. Claudia Kishi, Stacey's best friend, had also been a friend of Kristy's since birth. Claudia, who was a talented and serious artist, had always seemed like such a free spirit. She always had boyfriends, but . . .married? "To who?"

"A guy she met during college. You know how she was planning to go to that art school?"

Kristy nodded. Claudia had always been a terrible student and it was a miracle that she'd even graduated high school. For the last half of senior year, Claudia had gushed about the college she was planning on attending. It was an exclusive art school in Chicago with several great programs. It wasn't like an academic college. It had options to major exclusively in one section of art and earn a degree in only two years instead of four, called an Associate's Degree.

"Well, she graduated," Stacey went on, "and right away she landed a job at this art gallery. She'd been interning there since she went to school, and as soon as she got her degree, they hired her on as an art consultant. And they even let her put her stuff in the gallery. She's sold quite a few paintings and is really making a name for herself."

"Wow," Kristy murmured, impressed.

"Yeah. Anyway, she met this guy last year, Brent Patterson, and just last week Claudia told me they're going to get married. Probably sometime next year."

"That's incredible," Kristy said. She was happy for Claudia, but a small part of her was also the slightest bit jealous for Claudia's success. "What about you?" she asked Stacey. "What have you been up to?"

"Well, I'm at NYU, like I mentioned," Stacey replied. "Majoring in fashion design."

Kristy nodded. Stacey had always been interested in fashion and whatever was stylish in clothes. It wasn't surprising.

"I want to open my own business," Stacey went on, "and be the main designer."

"Well, that's great," Kristy said. The small twinge of jealousy was getting bigger. Her friends were moving on to bigger, better things. . . and Kristy Thomas was a receptionist. Suddenly, she began to feel overwhelmed. By Stacey, Stacey's perfect looks, the stories of her friends' perfect lives. She glanced at the clock on the wall and pretended to be surprised by the time. "Oh, dear, I've got to pick up Sarah from daycare," she said. "Listen, Stacey, it was great to see you again . . ."

Stacey took the hint, and they both got to their feet. "Sure," Stacey replied as she shrugged into her jacket. "It was great to see you again too, Kristy." She paused and looked Kristy straight in the eye. "Keep in touch with me, okay? I don't want to lose you again."

An unexpected lump formed in Kristy's throat. "Sure," she agreed. "See you around."

After Stacey had gone, Kristy let out a sigh. She didn't have to pick up Sarah for another couple of hours. But she needed time to think. She needed time to herself.

* * *

Amazingly, after that day, things seemed to get a little better. Kristy had forgotten what it felt like to have a friend. But Stacey was determined to have Kristy in her life. By the end of the following week, they had gone to lunch together twice and seen a movie together, plus talked on the phone. It felt good to laugh again, to spend time with someone so familiar, someone from home.

At the office, even Clive noticed a change in her. "You seem to be doing better," he commented one day as he was heading out for lunch. "Cheerier."

Kristy was taken aback. "Thanks," she replied, not knowing what else to say.

He leaned against the wall, his piercing blue eyes studying her intently. "It's good to see you happy," he said finally.

His gaze was so intense that Kristy felt a blush spread up her cheeks. She wasn't sure what to say to that. Was it really so obvious that she was happy? Even worse. . .was she so pitiful that all along, the only thing she'd needed was a friend? Kristy tried to push the thought out of her mind.

She looked away from his eyes, concentrating on some papers on her desk. "Thanks," she said again, clearing her throat. She was hoping that he would leave. But he didn't. Instead he said, "Kristy, would you like to go out to dinner sometime this week?"

Kristy was so surprised that his words didn't register. And, she had to admit, she was a little defensive. Dinner, sure. With sex for dessert. Was that all he wanted? He saw her smile and wanted a piece of ass? She looked up at him, prepared to turn him down. But there was something in his eyes that seemed . . . genuine. Sincere. He was looking at her with that same intensity swirling in his blue eyes. He was waiting patiently for her answer. And suddenly, he was looking very attractive to her, in his professional suit that probably cost more than her entire rent for a month. Kristy experienced a moment of weakness, and when she opened her mouth, the word that came out was, "Sure."

Clive grinned at her. "How about tomorrow night?" he suggested.

Kristy nodded. "Sounds good," she managed.

Clive grinned again and started to walk away, calling over his shoulder, "I'll pick you up at seven."

Kristy let out a sigh as she watched him leave. _Oh well, she _thought to herself, going back to her filing. _I'll buy new shoes. Some of those incredibly painful looking heels that everyone wears. And if he tries anything, I'll hit him in the face with one._

She smiled.

* * *

"I don't shop at Bloomingdale's anymore," Stacey informed her that evening as they walked down a crowded sidewalk. Kristy was wearing sunglasses even though it was getting dark, and she was pushing Sarah in her toddler stroller. Sarah rarely used a stroller, but she was bound to get tired during the evening and besides, Kristy didn't want her to be running off into the busy city. Next to her, Stacey looked fresh from a day of classes, wearing designer jeans and a fashionable pink leather jacket. Kristy had called Stacey that afternoon to tell her about her date with Clive, and immediately Stacey offered to take her shopping. "I'll even treat you to dinner," Stacey had offered. "I'm dying to meet Sarah." So Kristy agreed. They had just come from a quick dinner at a pizza parlor, and now they were headed to some shops.

"There's this great little shop called Missy's that I discovered last year," Stacey chattered. "They have great clothes and they aren't too outrageously priced, either."

"Sounds perfect," Kristy said. She glanced down at Sarah, who was busy reading a children's book in her stroller. She looked perfectly content. Kristy once again thought of how blessed she was to have such a well-behaved daughter. She reached down and ruffled Sarah's blonde hair, and Sarah looked up and grinned at her.

As they entered the store, Stacey spoke up. "So tell me about this guy," she said. "He's your boss, right?"

"Yeah." Kristy described how she had just been transferred to Clive's department about a month before.

"Is he attractive?" she asked.

Kristy let out her breath, surprised by a small flutter that came to her stomach as she pictured Clive's appearance. She pushed it away. "Yes," she answered Stacey. "All the women have a crush on him. I don't know if it's more because of his actual looks, or because he's British. Lindsay, this woman I work with, say that accents are everything." She shrugged.

"I believe it," Stacey replied with a grin. "He sounds sexy."

Kristy sighed. "Unfortunately."

"Oh, come on Kristy," Stacey persuaded. "You can't swear off men forever. It's just not natural."

"It is if you're me," Kristy grumbled. "I don't even know why I agreed to this."

Stacey grinned. "Because he's sexy."

Kristy rolled her eyes and didn't reply, she just began looking through a rack of clothes. She supposed she needed something that looked nice, but not too dressy. Maybe pants? Dress pants, of course. She picked a pair off the rack--black with pink pinstripes.

"Too office-y," Stacey interrupted, taking the pants from Kristy and putting them back on the rack. She held up another pair. "You need something like this."

The pants that Stacey were holding up were white with tiny pink flowers all over them.

Kristy wrinkled her nose. "They're too girly."

"So? It's not like you're a boy," Stacey countered.

"No, but I _am_ a grown woman. I don't think a guy like Clive would be impressed by little girl flowers," Kristy shot back.

Stacey looked at the pants again and then she nodded. "I guess you're right," she agreed, putting the pants back.

They must have looked through a million outfits, and she must have tried on a million more, but finally, a couple of hours later, Kristy had found an outfit that was decent. It consisted of a loose, shimmery black skirt that flared at the bottom and came to just below her knees; a violet silk shirt with three-quarter length sleeves; and a pair of black high heels that were edged in violet stitching. Kristy noted with satisfaction that the shoes had a pretty spiky heel. Stacey even talked her into buying a women's black leather jacket, which would definitely look better than the worn coat Kristy had been wearing for the past year. Kristy bought the outfit, jacket and shoes and then Stacey bought a few blouses. By the time they left Missy's, Kristy felt satisfied.

"Hey, let's go in here," Stacey suggested a few minutes later as they passed a Victoria's Secret store.

"Why?" Kristy wrinkled her nose. She hadn't been inside a lingerie shop since her senior year of high school, when she was shopping for prom. These days, the sexiest pair of underwear she owned were her white ones that said "Monday" on the back in red block lettering.

"Why?" Stacey winked. "Why do you think?"

"Oh, please, Stace."

"It can't hurt," Stacey replied. "Anyway, I wanted to find a few new bras myself, so we might as well stop."

Kristy glanced down at Sarah, who had fallen asleep sometime during the mini fashion parade at Missy's. The girl was out cold. Kristy supposed a few extra minutes wouldn't matter anyway. "Fine," she agreed. "But only for a couple of minutes. It's getting late and Sarah needs to get to bed."

"Sure." Stacey practically dragged Kristy into the store and then hurried off towards the bra section. Kristy browsed around for a few minutes, and then she held up a pair of violet underwear that were kind of nice. _Oh, what the hell, _Kristy thought to herself. She needed new underwear anyway. Just because she might buy--and wear--nice underwear didn't necessarily mean she was going to let Clive see it.

Awhile later, she had bought three pairs of underwear and matching bras. Stacey herself bought a whole bagful of bras, along with some nightgowns. When they finally left, Kristy even felt a little bit excited about her date.

What could it hurt, anyway?

The next day, Kristy skipped lunch and left work an hour early. Stacey had offered to pick up Sarah from daycare and watch her that night while Kristy was on her date. "I'll call Emily," Kristy had protested, but Stacey shook her head mischievously.

"You'll need someone who can stay late, if you know what I mean."

Kristy had rolled her eyes, but she agreed to let Stacey baby-sit. Now, she wanted to take a long bath and relax before her date. After she left herself into her apartment, she straightened up a little bit and helped herself to a tall glass of iced tea. She sorted through that day's mail and then headed for the bathroom. In a somewhat dizzy state, she filled the bathtub with water and rose-scented bubble bath, shaved her legs, and then soaked in the water and thought about Clive. She didn't know what she was getting herself into. Sure, it was just dinner. But "just dinner" could lead to other things. Maybe not that night, but he might want a second, a third, a tenth date. A relationship. Hell, her hand in marriage. Maybe she was crazy to agree to have dinner with him.

But then she thought, what could it hurt? At the very worse, he might turn out to be nothing more than a good-looking bore and her biggest concern would be trying to stay awake through dull, publishing business talk. Or she could politely but firmly tell him that she enjoyed his company but she'd rather not date within the workplace. Or at all.

Then she thought of his blue eyes and some of her resolve weakened. Damn, why did he have to be so good-looking? It would be easier if he were an average looking guy. Kristy tried to remind herself that she was above appearances. He could look like Joe Millionaire, or just Joe Schmoe and it shouldn't affect her judgment or her decisions. She was better than that.

By the time she climbed out of her bath and into her terry cloth robe, she felt a little better. She took her time brushing out her hair, and by the time she was done with that, it was five o'clock and Stacey was knocking on the door.

"Mommy!" Sarah cried as she hurried in the door. Kristy swooped her up and dropped a kiss on her soft forehead. "How was your day?" she asked.

"Great," Sarah replied with a smile.

Stacey was close behind, smiling softly as she watched Kristy with her daughter. Kristy glanced at her and then turned back to Sarah. "I'm going out tonight but Stacey is going to stay with you," she explained.

"Okay," Sarah agreed easily.

"Good." Kristy set Sarah back down and watched her head off to her bedroom. Then she turned towards Stacey and forced a smile. "I've left directions," she explained. "What she can have for dinner, bedtime, stuff like that." She hesitated. "I'm not sure where we're going to eat, so I don't have a phone number. Maybe Clive has a cell phone. I can have him give you the number when he gets here, so that you can reach us."

Stacey was still smiling.

"What?" Kristy asked.

"You don't have to worry about anything," Stacey assured her. "I'm one of the founding members of the Baby-sitters Club, remember?"

Kristy smiled faintly. "Yeah."

Stacey's eyes took on a faraway glance. "You sound like one of the parents we used to sit for," she commented. "Giving directions, getting ready to head out for the night. . ." She shook her head. "Do you miss it?"

"Terribly," Kristy replied. For a moment, the two women stood in silence, each of their minds on another world, a world long gone.

Kristy was the first to break the spell. "Come help me get ready," she said, and headed for her own bedroom. Stacey watched as she put on her stockings, the skirt and blouse. "You need jewelry," Stacey decided.

Kristy nodded. "I don't have much jewelry," she told Stacey. "I never was much for it."

"No, you weren't," Stacey agreed. "But what do you have?"

Kristy opened a drawer and pulled out a small jewelry box, and opened it, showing Stacey the contents. There was a silver Tiffany necklace that her mother had given her for her seventeenth birthday, a birthstone pinky ring, a couple of pairs of earrings, and a gold locket necklace, which had been a gift from Steve.

Kristy lifted the locket from the box, shaking her head. "I don't know why I've kept this."

"Sentimental value," Stacey said with a shrug. "No big deal, but it's all wrong for tonight. You don't want to be wearing another man's jewelry on a date."

They decided that she would wear simply the Tiffany necklace. Then Stacey styled Kristy's hair. Her bangs had grown out a little so that she had to sweep them to the side of her forehead. Stacey brushed them to the side and held them there with a small, violet flower clip. She left the rest of Kristy's hair loose around her shoulders. A little bit of make-up was the final touch.

"You look beautiful," Stacey said as Kristy slipped on her shoes.

"Thanks," Kristy said, eyeing herself in the mirror. A grown-up looking young woman stared back at her. Her gaze fell to the clock and she saw that she had been primping for quite awhile. Clive would be here any minute.

Sighing, Kristy turned around once more in front of the mirror and then grabbed her small black purse. The nervous butterflies were in her stomach and they were beginning to multiply. She couldn't believe she was about to go on a date with Clive Brighton. . . the man she was supposed to despise. What had happened to her?

She didn't have time to dwell on it. Just then, her buzzer rang.

Clive had arrived.


	7. Just So I Could Push You Away

Chapter Six

Kristy's heart involuntarily leapt into her throat at the buzz. She forced it back down and took a deep breath. "He's here," she said, trying to be calm.

"Well, go answer the door," Stacey replied.

Kristy made a face at her and then straightened her shoulders in determination. She marched purposefully across the room and unlocked the door, swinging it open.

There he was. For a moment, Kristy just looked at him, taking in his appearance. He was dressed dressy yet casual, in a pair of khakis, dress loafers, and a navy blue sweater. His hair looked a little damp, as if he'd just showered, and in one hand he held a single red rose. When Kristy opened the door he smiled at her and held the rose out wordlessly.

Kristy took it, a smile spreading across her face. She brought the flower to her nose and inhaled the fragrance. It was absolutely beautiful.

"Thank you," she spoke up. Stepping aside, she held the door open wider so that he could come in.

Once he was inside, Kristy introduced him to Stacey, who looked like she was trying not to ogle him too hard and failing miserably. "Uh, Clive, this is my friend Stacey," she said quickly. "Stace, Clive Brighton." She turned towards Clive, explaining, "Stacey is watching Sarah tonight."

"Glad to know you," Clive said, extending a hand to Stacey. Stacey took it very slowly, holding onto his hand a little too long. "You too," she managed to say.

Kristy cleared her throat. "I'll just go put this in water," she said, holding up her rose.

A few minutes later, Kristy had put the rose in the vase, given Clive's cell phone number to Stacey, said good-bye to Sarah, and left the apartment. Once she was outside her door and it was safely closed behind her, she looked up at Clive and told herself to breathe normally. This was nothing to be nervous about. She was Kristy Thomas, and she wasn't interested in Clive Brighton. She was only having dinner with him to be nice.

Clive smiled at her and offered his arm. "I've made reservations for us at the Tavern on the Green," he told her as they headed out. "I've never been there but I do hear that the food is fantastic."

"Sounds good," Kristy agreed. "Stacey has eaten there a few times and she's always had good things to say about it."

Clive nodded. They spent the next few minutes, outside the apartment and then in the taxi cab, making small, awkward conversation. The entire time, Kristy felt embarrassed for some reason. Clive was good-looking, but this was just what she feared. He was boring. Any minute now, he'd say, "So, how do you like the book business?" Kristy would much rather have been at home, watching TV with Sarah.

"So," Clive said a few minutes later, "how do you like the book business?"

Fortunately, both Clive and Kristy seemed to relax once they were in the restaurant. They got to talking, and Kristy found out that Clive actually was an interesting person. "What part of England are you from?" Kristy asked after they had placed their orders with the waitress.

"I was born and raised in Warwickshire," Clive replied, "but I went to Oxford University and moved to London when I was eighteen."

"And that was, what . . . ten years ago?" Kristy guessed.

"Seven," Clive corrected. He grinned. "I don't look that old, do I?"

Kristy gazed at him, then slowly shook her head. "No, it's just . . . you're so successful, and you've got your publishing job. . . and you're only twenty-five?"

He shrugged. "I suppose most of it was luck. I've always loved books, but I've never been much of a writer. I mean, I couldn't write books myself. Second year of university, I began an internship with Jonathan Anderson Books as an editor, and I met some influential people. Friends in the right places, you know what I mean?" Kristy nodded. "After I graduated," he went on, "I was hired on immediately. I worked my way up the ladder, and now here I am."

Kristy shook her head. "I never would have guessed."

"What about you, Kristy?" Clive looked at her intently. "Am I lucky enough to work with you for a long time, or are you planning other things for your life?"

Kristy sat back and took a deep breath. She had hoped to avoid these personal questions. Shrugging, she absently played with her linen napkin. "You might be stuck with me for awhile," she responded lightly. "I don't have any immediate plans. Taking care of Sarah is my first job. Anything else is second priority."

"I admire that," Clive agreed, nodding. "You love her very much, don't you?"

Kristy smiled, but it was a faraway smile, directed more at Sarah than at Clive. "She's amazing," she answered. "I do admit that I have dreams, but I suppose they're on the back burner for awhile."

He leaned forward. "What do you dream of?" The question, though simple enough, had an intimate ring to it, and it caused Kristy's heart to start pounding. She looked up at Clive and shrugged again, forcing herself to behave normally, like a grown woman. "Oh, plenty of things," she said. "When I was younger, I wanted to be President of the United States."

Clive laughed. "Talk about ambition!"

Kristy laughed. "If you knew me back then, though, you'd agree that it was attainable. I started out with my own business--" Suddenly, she broke off, blushing. She couldn't believe that she was on a date with her sexy, British, sophisticated boss, and she was talking about the BSC.

"Go on," Clive urged, a soft smile on his face.

"It's silly," Kristy insisted, her cheeks still warm. "But what the hell. I had this club, a sort-of business, my friends and I. We called ourselves the Baby-sitters Club. I was about twelve when that started." At his urging, she told him how she'd come up with the idea and all the things they'd done with children: plays, concerts, talent shows, and tons and tons of baby-sitting jobs.

"We lasted awhile, actually," she finished, "until we were in high school and decided we were too old for it."

Clive looked impressed. "An idea like that takes a lot of creativity, and what's more, actually carrying it out and making it a success takes dedication and hard work. I'm very impressed." He raised his glass to her. "This is to you, Kristy, because I've never met someone who was a successful entrepreneur at age twelve."

Kristy laughed and clinked her wine goblet against his. "Thanks."

"No wonder you're such a good mother," he commented.

They talked like that all through dinner. He told her of activities he'd held in high school--he was star of his school soccer team. Well, he called it football, but in England football meant soccer. Clive explained that this was because it was accurate: you kicked the ball with your feet. "Personally, I don't know why you Americans call it soccer," he said with a laugh. "That has nothing to do with the game at all."

Dinner flew by. Two hours and dessert later, Clive finally asked for the check and, after he paid, they left the restaurant. Kristy glanced at her wristwatch and saw that it was close to nine-thirty at night. It was getting to be late, but for some reason, Kristy wasn't ready for the night to end. A cool breeze ruffled her hair and she pulled her new jacket around her shoulders, then smiled up at Clive. He was gazing off into the distance, seemingly content with their companionable silence.

"I'm glad you agreed to go out with me," he said a few minutes later as they ambled down the crowded sidewalk. "After such a long time, it's nice to finally get to know you."

Kristy smiled at him. "I agree."

Any animosity she had felt towards him had melted away. He seemed to be just as good-looking on the inside as he was on the outside. Mature, sophisticated . . . He was so different from Steven, and yet at the same time, Kristy felt a chemistry with him in a way that, up until that point, she had never felt with anyone but Steven. How could she be so attracted to two men that were completely different?

"Any particular time you need to be home?" Clive asked.

Kristy shook her head quickly. "No."

"Good."

They decided to go to a small dance club near the restaurant. It wasn't some kind of club that was smoky and filled with people making out, but rather it was classy, with people quietly dancing and mingling among themselves. A tasteful mix of popular music was being played. Clive and Kristy stole a table towards the back and ordered drinks while they continued their conversation from the restaurant. Kristy's emotional barriers seemed to have disappeared, the more she talked to Clive. They delved quickly into more personal conversation.

"I was married briefly," Clive confessed to her. "To my high school sweetheart. You know how it is when you're young like that. We got caught up in puppy love and married after graduation."

"Did you go to London together?" Kristy asked.

Clive shook his head and laughed; a short, amused laugh. "The marriage didn't even last that long. Over the summer, we tried to live together. It's actually quite funny, it was such a disaster. I didn't have a proper job and she didn't have one at all. We rented a small flat with leaks and we never had money for food. It was positively dreadful."

Kristy raised her eyebrows. She couldn't imagine Clive Brighton living in a tiny England flat with leaks in the roof. He didn't notice her expression.

"Two months into the marriage, she was begging for mercy," Clive laughed. "My parents, who are Catholic, managed to arrange for us to have an annulment. So we did just that, she moved back in with her parents, I went to Oxford, and I never saw her again."

"Wow." Kristy couldn't imagine being married and then divorced all in one summer. It seemed really crazy. But then, she supposed, she'd had a baby, so maybe it wasn't that different.

As if he were thinking the same thing, Clive brought it up. "So, you aren't married. Were you ever?"

"No."

Clive nodded and she knew what he was thinking, only he was probably trying to think of how to ask. She decided to spare him the trouble.

"Sarah's father was my boyfriend, my high school sweetheart, I suppose. She was conceived on prom night, if you can imagine anything more cliché."

"Ah." Clive nodded. "Are you still in touch with her father?"

"No. He broke up with me when he found out I was pregnant, and I moved here after I graduated high school. It's been just Sarah and me since she was born."

He reached across the table and laid his strong hand over her small one, and just for a moment, the contact of his skin against hers sent a jolt through her. "I'm sorry," he said simply.

"Don't be. I hardly think of it anymore," she lied breezily.

For awhile, they sat in companionable silence, listening to the music. Then, as a slow song started, Clive got to his feet and held his hand out to her. "May I?" he asked, sounding like a pure gentleman.

Kristy eyed the dance floor, where only a few couples were swaying in time to the music. Then she looked back up at Clive and found herself nodding. "All right," she agreed. She took his hand and allowed him to lead her onto the wooden dance floor. Once they were there, Clive slowly took her into his arms. He wrapped one muscular arm around her waist and took her hand, intertwining their fingers. Kristy stepped close to him and leaned slightly into him. They began to dance, slowly and silently, content with the music and each others' company.

__

This is my life

It's not what it was before

All these feelings I've shared

These are my dreams

I've never lived before

Somebody shake me, cause I

I must be sleeping

Now that we're here

It's so far away

All the struggle we thought was in vain

All the mistakes one life contains

They all finally start to go away

When the song was over, Kristy was reluctant to step away from him. But she did. Clive looked down at her warmly, his gaze intense, never wavering. Sensing he was about to kiss her, a feeling of panic washed over her and she stepped away quickly. "We better go," she said.

Looking slightly disappointed, Clive nodded. They headed back to their table and got their things and then headed out of the club. Kristy stole a glance at her watch and saw that it was almost midnight.

They didn't talk much in the cab ride back to her apartment. When they arrived outside of her building, Clive stepped out behind her. "I'll walk you," he offered. Kristy nodded. As they rode the elevator, Kristy cleared her throat. "I had fun tonight," she said. "Thank you."

Clive nodded. "My pleasure. Like I said, I'm happy to get to know the real you."

He walked her down the hall to her door. She fumbled in her purse for a minute, looking for her keys. When she found them, she smiled up at him and put her hand on the doorknob. Suddenly, she felt like Susie Q coming home from a date with the BMOC. It was all very high school. Shaking the thought from her head, she spoke up. "I'll see you at work tomorrow."

He stepped closer to her, and looked into her eyes. Kristy raised her chin slightly, and he took the initiative to lean down and brush his lips against hers. Kristy's mind flashed to her violet-edged high heel, but the truth was that the moment his lips touched hers, electricity shot through her body and the last thing she wanted to do was fight him off. She wanted to kiss him forever. But. . . she couldn't. It had started like this with Steven. She was going to get hurt. Damn him for breaking through her barriers.

He was still kissing her gently, but when she didn't resist right away, he moved to deepen the kiss. Suddenly Kristy panicked. She broke away from him and backed up.

"What's wrong?" Clive asked.

She looked up at him. He looked so kind. But what had she been thinking? Never trust a pair of big blue eyes. Cursing herself, Kristy felt her eyes fill with hot tears. Tears of betrayal, tears of anger in herself. Disappointment. When she opened her mouth to speak, however, the only thing that came out was a whisper. "I can't," she managed to rasp, shaking her head. "I'm sorry."

Turning, she unlocked and opened her door in one quick motion. Leaving a startled Clive outside in the hall, she shut herself into the safety of her apartment. Once the door was closed behind her, she leaned against it, holding a hand to her heart, breathing deeply and trying to blink away the tears.

It had been foolish to think that she could actually trust anyone. She had opened up too much, let him in too far, and now he would want more. Now he could hurt her. Clive Brighton was sexily dangerous, and she knew that she was playing with fire. Being dumped by her boss would be even worse than being dumped by Steven. She had to stay away from him.

She heard Stacey approach from somewhere in the dark apartment. She quickly blinked away the last of her tears and straightened, just as Stacey came in.

"How did it go?' she asked brightly.

Kristy shrugged out of her jacket and began to move around, settling in for the night. "Fine. He's a nice guy, but there's no chemistry."

Stacey seemed satisfied with her hasty explanation. "Too bad. He was so good-looking."

Kristy just shook her head. Clive was not going to use his charm and good looks to edge his way into her life and heart, only to leave her broken.

So not happening.


	8. Unlock My Heart, Spill My Secrets

Chapter Eight

A few nights later, Kristy stayed late at work. An idea had been forming in her head, one that she hadn't had much time to dwell on. But when the office got quiet and outside, night began to fall, Kristy made a quick favor call to Stacey and then stayed at her desk, gazing out the windows as the city began to make its transformation into a glittering kingdom. Lights snapped on, yellow and blue and white, against the backdrop of a deep pink sky. Kristy wished she could paint a picture of the scene. For awhile she watched as the pink faded into violet and then finally dark blue. And then she turned back to her computer and began typing.

_I have always been an Idea person. My mother used to tell me that when I was little, I'd come up with creative ideas for my dolls. I'd make my best friend, Mary Anne, come over and play with me and with our dolls, we'd play all sorts of games. We'd invite Claudia from across the street, who was our resident artist, and she'd help us make fabulous doll clothes. Perhaps that was the start of my love for baby-sitting. Because when I was twelve, I decided to take my ideas and my passion for children and turn them into a money-making success._

Kristy was so busy typing that she didn't notice that anyone else was in the office, at least, not until someone cleared his throat. Startled, Kristy looked up.

"I'm leaving now," Clive announced, a bit stiffly. "Are you all right here?"

Kristy nodded. Things had been awkward between Kristy and Clive since the night of their date. The sight of him still caused her heart to pound, but she just couldn't take the risk. However, she knew that she must have hurt Clive, because he wasn't as friendly towards her. He was polite enough, but he never smiled at her the way he used to. Kristy let out a little sigh. Why did things have to be so complicated?

"If you're all right," he went on, "I'll be heading out."

She nodded again. "Good night, Clive."

He turned away and started towards the elevator. Kristy looked back down at her monitor, reading the paragraph she'd written. Heading back up to the top of the document, she slowly typed the words, "_Memoirs of a Twelve-Year-Old Entrepreneur. By Kristy Thomas._"

"Kristy."

Kristy looked up again, startled. Clive had doubled back and was standing at her desk again.

"Yes?"

Clive let out his breath and set down his briefcase slowly before sitting down in a chair opposite of her. "I just want to know," he began. "What it is, exactly, that you're afraid of."

The question took her by surprise, and Kristy's natural instinct to being surprised was to be defensive. She narrowed her eyes at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"What are you afraid of, Kristy?" He looked directly into her eyes. Damn, he was intense. Kristy couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. She looked down, pretending to be absorbed in some papers on her desk. She even shuffled them around a bit, for good measure. "I don't know what you're talking about, Clive."

She could feel him staring at her, but she refused to look up. After a minute, she heard him sigh and mutter something under his breath. He got up again, and only then did Kristy look up. He was turning away, beginning to head out.

Suddenly, something snapped inside of her and before she even knew what she was doing or what she was saying, the words had tumbled out of her mouth. "I'm afraid of _you_," she snapped.

Clive stopped, paused in his tracks before slowly turning and facing her again. "What?"

Kristy let out her breath. Her heart was still pounding but she had already come this far--she might as well keep going. Dropping her pile of papers on the desk, she leaned her elbows on the desk. Briefly, she pressed her forehead into her raised hands before looking up at him again. "I'm afraid of you," she repeated, more calmly this time.

In an instant, he was back, this time beside her, pulling a chair around to her side of the desk. "Why are you afraid of me?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Kristy shook her head and sighed, averting her eyes. "I don't know if you've ever been hurt before," she said. "But I have. I've been in love before. . . dramatic, passionate love, even if we were young." Once she began talking, the words kept tumbling out and she was powerless to stop them. She no more could have stopped the words anymore than she could have turned back time to before she turned her life upside down. "We were constant companions, and I was convinced that there would never be anyone else for me. How could there be? All I could see was him. That's why I did what I did with him. What could it hurt? I thought I was being an adult. All my life, my friends always said that I was the immature one. Tomboy Kristy, she was never interested in boys. Never wore make up. Never had a boyfriend. She'd take a softball game or a baby-sitting job over a date, and when you're young, things like that are childish. But when I met Steven, it was different. Suddenly, I felt like an adult, too. I had this guy who was sensitive, caring, sweet. And I thought he loved me."

Clive didn't interrupt her, he just kept his gaze steady on her, his expression neutral, listening to what she had to say. While she spoke, her eyes filled with tears, but she didn't let them spill over onto her cheeks. She held them back.

"When he wanted to sleep with me, I decided that it was past time for me to get with the program. It would be an expression of love. It was the mature, adult thing to do. . .if I loved him, why not give myself to him completely? And so I did, and then I found out I was pregnant with Sarah. The first thing I did was tell Steven. And he went ballistic on me. He told me that it was my fault, that I wasn't careful enough. I should have known how to prevent it. If a condom wasn't enough, I should have known better. He had a full football scholarship to UCLA. He wasn't going to ruin his life over me or any baby. He said I was on my own. If I wanted to abort it, that was my business. If I was going to keep it, then he wouldn't have any part of it."

She could see Clive clench his jaw in anger, but he still didn't speak. She took it as a sign that he wanted her to go on.

"That's when I realized that he wasn't in love with me. The crushing pain of knowing you've given yourself to someone, and then you find out that they never loved you at all. . .it's too much. I still don't understand. I don't understand how you can experience something, and it can _look_ like love, and _feel_ like love, but it isn't love. It's something less. . .something not as strong. . . and I fell for it." She shook her head. "I had to leave Stoneybrook. The town where I grew up became an enemy land. I didn't know who to trust. If Steven could react so horribly, then how would my friends react? My family? I didn't want to face it. So I took money from my stepfather's safe and I ran away. . ."

"And you came here," Clive finished. It was the first time he had spoken. She hadn't even been looking at him anymore. As she spoke, she gazed at a far wall, which was blurry through her tears. Blinking, she turned back to face him. His own expression was a mixture of anger and concern. She nodded.

"I don't want to get tied up with men," she said after a moment. "Going through heartbreak like that is more than enough to last me a lifetime. My first priority is Sarah. I can't do that to her, either. I can't date men, introduce these people into her life, only to take them away when a relationship doesn't work. It isn't fair to her. I've cheated her enough already."

"How so?" Clive asked carefully.

"I grew up without my real father. He left when I was six and I rarely ever saw him. All during my childhood, I hated him for that. I hated that my friends, even my friends who had divorced parents, got to see their fathers, got to spend time with them. Their fathers watched them grow up. Mine didn't. And now, because of my selfish mistake, Sarah will have to go through the same thing." She shook her head.

They fell into silence. Kristy blinked to rid her eyes of her tears and took a deep breath. A part of her was regretful that, after all of her careful planning, she'd spilled all of her secrets to Clive Brighton, leaving them out on the table, fresh and vulnerable. But most of her didn't care. It was such a relief to finally get her feelings _out_. To speak them, hear the words, shed the tears that she'd kept bottled inside for so long. It felt like a huge weight was lifted from her shoulders.

"There is something you need to understand," Clive said finally. "I understand that you were, and still are, in a great deal of pain. But none of it is your fault. You got cheated, plain and simple. Your vulnerability caused you to fall in with the first boy you felt connected with, and when you gave yourself to him, it wasn't out of recklessness or lust, but rather out of love. You couldn't control his true self anymore than you could control what happened as a result of your actions. You didn't behave selfishly. You behaved romantically, and you cannot be blamed for something as innocent as that."

"You mean naïve," Kristy corrected.

Clive gazed at her, and then finally shook his head. "No, not naïve," he responded. "There's nothing naïve about you. Naïve implies a lack of understanding, and a lack of experience. Innocence is something else entirely. Innocence is having the heart to believe in things even when your experience tells you not to."

Kristy smiled faintly. "I've never heard anyone explain it like that."

Clive reached out and took her hand. "I'm sorry for what you've gone through," he said sincerely. "If I could meet your boyfriend on the street, I'd quite like to beat him to a bloody pulp."

Kristy grinned.

"But," Clive went on, "in life, bad things are going to happen. All you can do, Kristy, is look for the good in them. Look at it this way. If it weren't for that happening, you wouldn't have Sarah in your life now. I know how much joy she brings you. Can you imagine a life without her in it?"

Kristy tried, and then shook her head. "No."

"You can't shut out the world because of fear," he continued. "Otherwise, you're letting that fear take over you. And when the fear is in control, then you don't have control over your own life anymore."

Kristy sat back, letting his words absorb. Finally, she nodded silently. He was right, of course. She knew it. Maybe she had known it all along. But hearing it from someone else put it into perspective. She looked up at him, feeling a sense of gratitude towards this amazing man. How had it been possible to feel any contempt for him? "Thank you," she said softly.

He let go of her hand, but he didn't stop looking into her eyes. "Don't let fear control you," he repeated, but his voice was softer, almost a request. "Don't shut everyone out."

She nodded. "I'll try," she whispered.

He smiled, lifted his hand and touched her cheek. "That's a girl," he said. Shivering at his touch, Kristy brought up her own hand and covered his with it, looking up at Clive. Intimacy coursed between them. Everything around Kristy started to disappear--her thoughts, her barriers, her uneasiness. All she could see were Clive's amazingly bright blue eyes, locked on her own, and the rest of the world faded away.

Clive could sense it, too. He leaned closer to her, and like last time, Kristy felt a flutter of panic. But she forced herself to push it away. She wanted to feel Clive's lips on her own, even more than she wanted to run from it.

He kissed her, gently at first, tentative, as if he were afraid Kristy were going to run at any minute. She didn't. He pulled away slightly, looked at her, as if asking. Kristy nodded, and he kissed her again. This wasn't like the Mickey Mouse kiss that they'd shared the night of their date. It was deeper, more passionate, full of pent-up longing. Clive's mouth hungrily explored hers and she responded with the same intensity. Kristy's heart was pounding so hard that she felt weak. When they pulled apart, Kristy was breathing heavily. But so was Clive, she noticed.

"Where's Sarah tonight?" he asked in a low whisper.

"Stacey's staying with her for awhile."

He kissed her. "Come home with me," he said simply. Kristy couldn't do anything but nod. It was as if she were under some kind of spell, unable to think for herself or consider anything outside the realm of Clive's kisses. Within minutes, she'd saved and closed her document, turned off the computer, and was following Clive out the door. In the elevator, she used Clive's cell phone to call her own apartment.

"Hey, Kristy, where are you?" Stacey asked when she answered. "Sarah was asking for you. She's asleep now."

"I, um, was working late," Kristy responded. "Listen, Stace, I know it's a huge favor to ask, but do you think you could stay there for a few more hours?"

"A few more _hours? _How much work do you have to do?"

"I'll explain when I see you," Kristy replied, a little edge to her voice. Luckily, Stacey caught on quick.

"Oh. Oh, _sure," _she said after a minute. "I get it. Don't worry, I brought my homework. I could use the quiet study time. Take your time."

"Thanks, Stacey. I'll talk to you later."

"Don't leave out any details," was Stacey's good-bye. Kristy hung up and handed Clive his phone back. By that time, they'd reached the first floor. Clive took Kristy's hand and they went outside. The temperature had dropped as evening fell, and Kristy shivered as they stepped out into the foggy night.

Clive wrapped an arm around her. "Winter's coming," he observed as he raised his hand for a cab.

"My favorite time of year," she responded.

They didn't talk much in the cab. Clive lived on Central Park West, about a twenty minute drive from Willow Books. When they got to his apartment, Kristy's eyes widened, impressed. The apartment was large, but it wasn't filled with sculptures or Oriental rugs like most rich people's apartments. It was tastefully decorated, and yet simple at the same time. A plain blue rug was on the living room floor. His couches were the same shade of blue, and a couple of paintings hung on the walls. But what impressed Kristy most was the view. Along the far side of the apartment, the wall was almost all windows, looking out over Central Park. The trees shimmered as they swayed in the breeze, and behind them, the buildings were lit up like a sea of twinkling blue lights.

"It's beautiful," Kristy breathed, crossing the apartment to gaze out the windows. Clive came up behind her and kissed her neck. "It's better than that flat in England," he agreed with a grin.

"I'll say."

He continued to drop kisses on her neck, causing her to shiver. Finally, she broke her gaze away from the window and turned towards him, and he took the opportunity to capture her mouth again with his own. For the next few moments, Kristy was caught up in him, and she barely noticed when they made their way from the living room and into his bedroom. "I didn't get to see the rest of your apartment," she said weakly.

"I'll give you the tour later," he replied. For a few minutes, they tried to catch their breath. Kristy had never felt anything like this before. She knew what was going to happen, and she was a little scared, but she wanted it, too. This wasn't like with Steven. With Steven, she'd been so nervous that she'd hardly taken the time out to feel. It had been very quick. But this--this was different. Kristy leaned towards him, taking the initiative to kiss him this time. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down onto the bed, full of passion. "You're so beautiful," he whispered to her, brushing a loose lock of hair away from her face. She closed her eyes, surrendering.

A few hours later, they lay together on his large bed. Kristy stared up at the ceiling, which was covered in shadows cast from the trees outside. She had missed trees in New York. Unless you went to Central Park, you never saw trees. Kristy never made it to Central Park much. Now she realized that the shadows were comforting, as if a piece of Stoneybrook was sitting outside of Clive's apartment window.

Clive. Kristy turned her head slightly, looking over at him. He was staring at the ceiling as well. Kristy let out a sigh, replaying the last few hours' events in her head. Being with Clive was indescribable. So different from Steven . . . Clive was on a completely different plane than Steven. Like Kristy, Steven had been a virgin before prom night. But Clive was a man; experienced. He had once been married, and she was sure he'd been with other women since. He knew exactly what he was doing and how to do it. He could take her to the stars and back.

She turned onto her side and rested her head on her shoulder. Clive smiled slightly, picking up her hand and kissing her fingers. "I'm crazy about you, Kristy," he said, still staring up at the shadows. "I have been since I met you. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

She didn't reply; she just lay there, tracing lines on his chest with her fingers, listening to the beat of his heart. Clive smiled, dropped a kiss on top of her head, and lapsed again into silence.

She didn't get home until five in the morning. When she let herself into her apartment, it was dark and quiet, with only the early morning sounds of crickets coming in from the open windows. Kristy shivered and crossed the room, closing windows. She found Stacey lying on the couch, a trigonometry book open beside her. She was sound asleep. Her blonde hair was spread around her face and a small line of drool was near her lips. It was about as inelegant as Kristy had ever seen her.

She checked in on Sarah and then returned to the couch, shaking Stacey lightly. "Stace," she whispered. "Stacey, I'm home."

Stacey blinked and then did a double take, jerking awake when she saw Kristy. "Kris!" She sat up quickly, wiping her mouth and straightening her hair. "Jesus, what time is it?"

"About five."

"Five? Five in the morning?"

Kristy nodded.

Stacey shook her head, looking slightly amused. "I should have guessed it was late. Or early. I didn't conk out until about 2 am." She eyed Kristy. "So who's the guy?"

Kristy sat down on the couch, taking off her jacket. "Clive," she said.

"Clive? Clive Brighton? That British guy with amazing sex appeal?"

Kristy rolled her eyes. "Uh huh."

"I thought you said there wasn't any chemistry," Stacey remembered.

"Well . . ." Kristy shrugged. "Oh, Stacey, it happened so fast. I suppose it's been building up for awhile, but tonight. . .I'm scared and thrilled at the same time. Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Of course not," Stacey assured her. "You deserve love, Kristy."

"Love? Who said anything about love?" Kristy demanded. "Like, sure. Attraction, definitely."

"Your eyes said love," Stacey said simply.

Kristy sat back, her head spinning. She didn't know what to think. Tonight had happened incredibly fast. For a moment, Kristy let a sense of doubt seep into her mind. Maybe she shouldn't see Clive. Maybe it had been a mistake.

But then his words came back to her. _Don't let fear control you. _What did she want, really? The answer came so fast that it startled her. She wanted to be with him.

_Then it's right, _a voice inside her head told her. _It's right._


	9. You Can Be My Someone

Chapter Nine

"Richard Dawes left you a message to call him when you get the chance," Kristy said as she stepped into Clive's office a few weeks later. Clive was busily working at his computer, but he looked up when she entered.

She shuffled a few more papers in her hand. "The CEO of Townsend Books wants to know if you can make lunch this week, or if you want to reschedule," she went on, "and your mother called." She grinned and handed him his pile of messages for the morning. It was noontime and she was about to head to the lunch room.

Clive flipped through the papers before setting them down on his desk. "Thanks."

She nodded and started to turn to leave, but Clive called after her, "Hey, come here."

Kristy glanced to make sure she'd shut the door behind her, then she turned back and smiled at Clive. He had pushed his chair away from his computer and was completely facing her now. "Are you going to lunch?" he asked.

She nodded, crossing the office to his side of the desk. "Want to come with me?"

He smiled, but shook his head. "I can't. I'm going to work straight through lunch today because I've fallen slightly behind." He reached up and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. "Not that I'm complaining," he added.

Kristy smirked. "It's okay," she joked. "You can tell me that you've fallen behind because you're distracted by my beauty and personality. I won't be offended."

Clive laughed. "See, that's what I like about you," he replied. "Your brutal honesty. _And_ your beauty and personality."

"Well, now that we've cleared that up." Kristy leaned over to brush his lips with her own, then straightened. "My stomach is growling, so I'm going down. Are we still on for dinner tonight?"

Clive nodded. "I wouldn't miss it for the world," he promised.

They shared one last kiss and then Kristy left his office. She had a smile on her face. It was hard to believe that things were finally starting to look up. For the past few weeks, things with Clive had progressed rather smoothly. They went on a few more dates, and more often went to his apartment to spend time together. At the office, there was no policy against dating coworkers, so sometimes they ate lunch together. It wasn't a big secret that they were dating, but Kristy didn't like to announce it, either. She wanted to keep it to herself, something for she and Clive to share alone.

It seemed almost too good to be true, but Clive was everything that she had secretly hoped he'd be. Romantic, attentive, caring. And he was wonderful with Sarah. She'd taken a liking to Clive since that day that he'd picked her up from daycare, and often she asked about him. That night, Kristy was planning to cook dinner at her apartment for the three of them. _I wonder if I should make lasagna_, she thought to herself as she grabbed her purse and her lunch bag from her desk. _I think I have Nannie's old recipe around somewhere._

She stopped in at the restroom and then stood by the counter, running a comb quickly through her hair before gazing at her reflection. One would have to be blind not to notice the dramatic change in her appearance. Not that her looks had changed any, but it was more her attitude. She was carrying herself with a bit more confidence, feeling a bit more like the old Kristy Thomas. Her cheeks had some color in them, and her eyes sparkled. It was completely sappy, but Kristy was caught up in her romance, and to her, there was no wrong in the world. Not anymore.

She fished around in her purse, looking for her lip gloss, when she heard a voice behind her say cattily, "I hear you're screwing Clive Brighton."

Kristy froze, then looked up and saw that Lindsay had just come out of one of the stalls, dressed in one of her usual miniskirt ensembles.

"Excuse me?" Kristy asked.

Lindsay flounced over to the sink with her make-up bag, and started to apply red lipstick to her lips. "You heard me," she said after a minute. "You and the big boss. Can't say I blame you. You don't want to be a secretary forever, after all."

Kristy's eyes flashed and she turned and faced Lindsay. "It's not like that," she protested. "Clive and I are dating, yes, but I'm not _screwing_ him, as you put it. And our sex life has nothing to do with our jobs here. I'm not trying to climb up the chain."

Lindsay sort of rolled her eyes, putting her lipstick away and beginning to apply more eyeliner. "Think of it however you want to," she replied. "I'm not trying to be mean. I mean, hey, Clive's sexy as hell. By all means, go for it. All I'm saying is that people talk. You yourself said that you weren't going to get involved with men after what happened to you. Yet here you are, suddenly, with the most successful man here." Lindsay turned towards her, narrowing her outlined eyes. "People talk," she repeated.

Kristy could feel the anger rising in her. How dare she come in here and ruin the first good thing to happen to Kristy in ages? _What's her problem? _Kristy wondered silently. _Why is she being such a royal bitch?_

"What are you, jealous?" she snapped.

Lindsay raised her eyebrows. "Of course not," she retorted. "I'm only looking out for your best interests, Kristy. After all, you don't want to be the one that everyone talks about because she nailed her boss. Do you?"

It took some composure for Kristy to keep her calm. She was the hot-tempered type, keen on shooting her mouth off before she thought of the consequences. Or at least, she used to be. The new Kristy counted to ten silently and then countered with reason. "People can say whatever they want," she announced stiffly. "Frankly, if you people have nothing better to do than to sit around and speculate a relationship between two people you barely know, then I feel very sorry for you!"

With that, she grabbed her purse from the counter and stalked out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

She was shaking by the time she reached the lunchroom. Lindsay's words had bothered her more than she wanted to admit. Were people really talking about her and Clive? Or was Lindsay jealous and trying to warn her off? Either option made her heart drop to her stomach. _Stop, _she told herself. _Forget everyone else. Don't let anyone take away your happiness._

But she didn't feel like going into the lunchroom anymore. Instead she turned and headed out the front door. It was getting cooler everyday as October progressed towards November, and there was a sharp breeze in the air. Kristy had left her jacket in her office, but she didn't mind the breeze. It cooled her flushed cheeks and helped slow down her heart. She took a deep breath and began walking down the street, aimlessly. She browsed into store windows and nibbled on her sandwich, trying not to think about Lindsay or anyone else. Tonight she'd go home and cook dinner and kiss Clive, and nobody could make her feel bad about it.

* * *

"Is Clive my daddy?" Sarah asked that night.

Kristy, who had been reading the directions on a box of garlic bread, was so startled that she dropped the box. It fell on the ground and the frozen bread slices tumbled onto the floor.

Kristy scooped up the box quickly, threw away the dirty pieces of bread, and spread the rest on the plate before answering. "What kind of a question is that?"

Sarah was sitting at her play table, which she'd moved to the kitchen while Kristy started dinner. She had a coloring book open in front of her, but she hadn't colored much. She was looking at Kristy expectantly.

"Well, my friend at daycare, Melissa, was talking about her daddy and I asked her what a daddy was. She said that it's a boy your mommy is married to, and when I asked what married is, she said its when you spend lots of time together. Clive is the only boy you spend time with, so does that make him my daddy?"

Kristy let out a sigh and turned towards Sarah, wiping her hands. She knelt down so that she was eye level with Sarah. She'd hoped to avoid this conversation for as long as humanly possible. She knew Sarah would wonder, eventually, but for now it had seemed that Sarah was happily oblivious to the fact that she only had one parent.

"Clive isn't your daddy," Kristy explained slowly. "Clive is Mommy's friend, but that's all."

Sarah frowned. "If you're not married to Clive and he's not my daddy, then why does he always come over and play with me?"

Kristy bit her lip. "He's my special friend," she attempted to explain. "A special friend is also someone you spend lots of time with." She reached out and tickled Sarah. "Like _you're_ my special friend, too."

Sarah shrieked in delight at Kristy's tickles, which made Kristy grin.

"Stop, stop, Mommy!" Sarah finally pleaded. Kristy stopped immediately, but they were still giggling.

"So," Sarah asked when she'd stopped giggling, "Clive and you and me are all special friends?"

"In a way . . . yes," Kristy agreed, nodding. "The important thing you need to understand, Sarah, is that you have people who love you. That's all that matters."

Sarah considered this, tipping her head to the side, and then she flashed a big smile. "Okay," she agreed, and then went back to her coloring book, seeming much happier. Kristy watched her for a few minutes, then stood back up to finish cooking. Just as she was finishing up the garlic bread, the phone rang.

Kristy grabbed the cordless extension in the kitchen. "Hello?"

"Hi, it's me," Stacey said.

"Hi, Stace."

"What are you doing tonight?" Stacey asked.

Kristy switched the phone to her other ear and turned on the tap, rinsing her hands. "Clive's coming over and we're eating dinner together," she replied. "Why?"

Stacey seemed to hesitate. "Well, I ran into Mary Anne today. . ."

"Uh huh," Kristy said suspiciously. "You didn't give me away, did you? Tell me you didn't!"

"I didn't," Stacey hurried to assure her. "But let me tell you, I wanted to. Kristy, don't you want to see Mary Anne? She and I are meeting for coffee again. She mentioned you to me today."

"She did?" Kristy turned off the tap and turned, leaning against the sink. "What did she say?"

"Not a whole lot. She said she talked to her father last night, and he told her that he ran into your mom at the grocery store the other day. And then she said that she wished she knew where you were, or even if you were okay. Oh, Kristy, I almost burst not telling her. You have no idea how hard it is!"

Kristy let out her breath. "So what did you tell her?"

She could hear Stacey exhale. "I said that I'm sure you're fine and that you'll turn up when you want to be found. Then I changed the subject."

"Well, you said the right thing," Kristy began. "I'll be found when I want to be, and right now, I don't want to be."

"But, Kristy--"

"I'm in charge here," Kristy cut in with a snap. "I don't want to see Mary Anne, and I don't want her to know where I am."

Stacey paused for a few moments. "Okay. Sure," she said finally.

Kristy sighed. "I don't mean to sound harsh, Stace. Just. . .please. Help me out here."

"All right," Stacey agreed reluctantly. "Well . . .talk to you later. Have fun tonight."

"Yeah. You too."

She hung up with a click and sighed, pressing the phone against her forehead before replacing it to the cradle. Then she noticed that Sarah was giving her a weird look. "That was Stacey," Kristy explained.

"Who wants to find you?" Sarah asked innocently.

Kristy groaned under her breath. Sarah was amazingly observant and intelligent for her age, and Kristy had always been glad for that fact, but now she found herself wishing that Sarah acted more her age. That was, like a nonobservant child who tried to eat crayons. "It's an adult game of hide and seek," Kristy attempted.

"Oh." Sarah shrugged and went back to her drawing. Kristy let out her breath, hurriedly finished cooking, and had just enough time to hurry to her room and change before Clive arrived.

She had been still been dressed in her work clothes: a navy blue pants suit and heels. She kicked her heels across her bedroom and stripped off the pants suit, then hurried over to the closet. Dinner in was casual, but she still wanted to look nice. _Do I even own anything nice? _She wondered. _Besides work clothes? _Kristy had always been a jeans-and-T-shirts kind of girl. She dressed up occasionally, but as a general rule, it was sweats. She pulled one of her nicest pairs of jeans from the closet and slipped them on. A few minutes later, she unearthed a white cashmere, short-sleeved sweater that she'd bought last Christmas to wear to a Messiah performance. She slipped on the cashmere and then brushed out her hair, letting it fall loose. Her feet went into a pair of flat white boots, and after a spritz of perfume and a dab of lip gloss, she was ready.

Just in time. She heard the buzzer ring and she hurried to the door to answer it. She pushed Lindsay's accusations; Stacey's pushing; and Sarah's questions out of her mind and put a smile on her face as she pulled open the door.

Clive greeted her with a bouquet of daisies. "For you," he said, much like he had on their first date, as he handed her the daisies.

She grinned and smelled them. "Thank you." She tipped her face up for a light kiss and then stood aside to let him in.

"Clive!" Sarah came running, a huge smile on her face. Clive didn't miss a beat. He reached down and caught her, scooping her up into his arms. "Sarah!" he responded, with equal enthusiasm.

Sarah giggled and tried to imitate his accent. "Soh-rah," she said.

"Making fun of me, are you?" Clive asked, pretending to look angry.

Sarah giggled again.

"Well, you know what I do to kids who make fun of men with accents?" Sarah shook her head. "I tickle them, that's what." With that, he began tickling Sarah's sides, while she shrieked in delight.

"That'll teach you to make fun," he said with a smirk, relenting after a couple of seconds. Then he set her back down on the floor and wagged a finger, still keeping his pretend-stern expression.

Kristy just watched, smiling to herself. He really was great with her. And Sarah adored him. Then Kristy's smile disappeared. How would Sarah react if (when?) she and Clive broke up? She'd be heartbroken. Kristy shook her head, trying to push the thought out of her mind. Clive glanced at her and grinned, and she forced herself to smile back.

"Who's ready for lasagna?" she asked brightly, clapping her hands together.

"Me!" Sarah cried.

"You are, huh?" Kristy leaned down, balancing her hands on her knees. "Think you can do Mommy a special favor and help set the table?"

"Yep." Sarah went to the drawer and pulled out silverware while Kristy reached in the cabinet for plates and Clive set out drink glasses. A few minutes later, the table was set and they were sitting down to Kristy's homemade lasagna and garlic bread.

"This is delicious," Clive said after a few minutes. "My compliments to the chef."

Kristy twirled a piece of lasagna around on her fork. "I'll have to pass them along," she replied. "It's my grandmother's recipe."

Clive smiled. "Then my compliments to your grandmother as well."

After dinner, Clive helped Kristy wash the dishes and then Kristy brought Sarah to the living room. She had bought the new _Aladdin_ DVD because it had been her favorite movie as a child, and she couldn't resist giving Sarah the chance to see it. She set up the movie and Sarah lay comfortably on one of Kristy's big pillows on the floor. Then she and Clive returned to the dining room.

"Thanks for coming over," Kristy said as she boiled a pot of water for tea. "I like when we get to spend time together."

"So do I," Clive replied, coming up behind her and kissing her cheek. He waited until she had made hot tea and poured them both a glass before he asked, "Is anything wrong tonight, Kristy?"

Kristy shrugged and sat down at the table, wrapping her cold hands around the hot mug. "Why do you ask?"

"You've seemed a trifle distracted," he told her, sitting down across from her.

She shrugged again, glancing out into the living room. She could hear snatches of music from the movie. Sarah was nodding her head, completely absorbed. "Well . . .it's just, do you know Lindsay Walker?"

"Yeah. Sort of. I know who she is, at least. Why?"

"Well, I used to think she was a friendly person, but today. . ." Kristy told Clive about the conversation in the bathroom. "It bothered me more than a little," she admitted. "Do you think that's the general consensus at work?"

Clive shook his head, looking annoyed. "I don't know what Lindsay's motives were, but I haven't heard any such talk from anyone. Besides, you and I aren't school children, and our relationship shouldn't be discussed by anyone but you and I."

"That's what I said," Kristy agreed.

"Good," He leaned towards her and kissed her cheek. "Don't worry about it."

It was exactly the reassurance she needed, and yet there were still other things nagging at her. Stacey, for one thing, and the idea that Mary Anne still missed her. Mr. Spier running into Watson . . .had Watson said anything about her to Mr. Spier? Did he mention that he hated her for stealing his money? Or did he miss her, too?

"Hey." Clive touched her hand. "Is anything else wrong?"

Kristy forced herself to cheer up. "Nope." She decided to change the subject. "Are you getting caught up at work?"

"Yes." He nodded. "I got an interesting manuscript today." He grinned. "It was from a woman who wrote a dieting success, in her opinion: introducing the FAM diet. Guaranteed to make you lose ten times more weight."

"Ten times more than _what_?" Kristy wrinked her nose. "And what's FAM, anyway?"

"Fantastic Aging Metabolism." Laughing, Clive explained this woman's theory, which was directed at the middle age crowd. The "FAM" diet would help those with slowing metabolisms make healthier choices. Once their calorie increase went down, then they would magically feel more energetic, in turn become motivated to exercise, and then of course, drop pounds instantly. By the time Clive had finished explaining, Kristy was cracking up.

"Oh, please!" she exclaimed. "I can't even believe all of these crazy diets that people are trying. Do you really need tons of books to tell you basic common sense?" She deepened her voice to sound like a TV announcer and put her fist to her mouth as a micrphone. "Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it's true. Here is the best kept weight loss secret: Put down the Twinkies, step away from that fresh baked plate of brownies, and get outside for some physical exercise. Indeed, it's that simple. Eat sensibly and exercise right, and you too can have a decently shaped figure."

Clive was laughing, too. "I've got it, Kristy: You can write a book called the CSYI Diet, and it will instantly become a best-seller."

"What's the CSYI diet?"

Clive grinned wickedly. "Common Sense, You Idiot!"

They were both laughing uncontrollably. "Coming soon to a bookstore near you," Kristy cried, wiping away tears of laughter. It really wasn't all _that_ hilarious, but once Kristy started laughing, she just couldn't stop. And everyone knew that laughter was contagious. Before long, Clive was laughing as much as she was.

"Mommy," Sarah complained from the living room.

"Sorry," Kristy called back. She stifled her laughter and grabbed Clive's hand, jumping up from the table. "Are you all right for awhile, Sarah?"

"Yes."

She led Clive into her bedroom, leaving the door open halfway so that she could still see Sarah in the living room. They sat down on the bed and Clive pulled Kristy into his strong arms, dropping a few light kisses onto her soft brown hair. "Don't worry about a thing, Kristy," he murmured to her. She leaned the back of her head against his chest, breathing in the scent of his cologne. She felt safe, safe from accusations and pressures and questions she wasn't ready to answer. She felt protected from anger, loneliness, fear. And she didn't want to let go. Not anytime soon.

She felt sleepy. She closed her eyes, her thoughts drifting from Clive to Stacey and the rest of her old friends. She was keeping it a secret, but she would write a book of her own. She was already started. It would be a memory book, all about the Baby-sitters Club. And maybe, just maybe, if she got it published . . .maybe then she'd be good enough to face everyone again.


	10. Dawn Before Darkness

Chapter Ten

After Halloween, some of the stores in New York City began putting out both Thanksgiving and Christmas decorations. Kristy could definitely feel the change in the air. She, personally, loved the "holiday" season, but she had always defined it a little differently than everyone else. In Kristy's mind, the holidays began the day after Halloween, and took up all of November, Thanksgiving, all of December, Christmas, and then ended the day after New Year's. So when she headed out into the city the Saturday after Halloween, there was a little bounce in her step.

How many holidays had she spent, organizing plays or parties, branching out to celebrate Hanukkah and Kwanzaa with her friends? Countless. Which made Kristy think of her book. She was planning to work on it all that day, but first she had to run some errands. She needed groceries and she would hunt around for some pre-Christmas bargains for Sarah. As she passed store windows filled with turkeys and Pilgrims, she thought of the format she'd write her book. She'd finished the introduction and the explanation of the Baby-sitters Club. The rest would purely be memories. She was planning to have three sections. The first section would be strictly business, and each chapter would be a different sitting job that she or one of the members had gone on. The second chapter would be mixing business with fun, and each of those chapters would include descriptions of parties, plays, activities, etc. And the third section would be called "Friends Forever" and would focus on her friendships in the BSC and how they'd all been brought together by a simple baby-sitting business.

A thought nagged at Kristy's mind. Would it be hypocritical to title the section "Friends Forever?" That implied that they were all still friends. Maybe _they_ all were, but they weren't still friends with Kristy. Besides Stacey, Kristy hadn't spoken to any of them. Maybe they even hated her. But on the other hand, way back when the club was going strong, strong friendship had been their common theme. It seemed only fitting.

_I'll use it anyway, _Kristy decided.

She spent her morning shopping and returned to the apartment around noon. She'd called Emily over to watch Sarah. After all, Emily was still a nice girl, even if her aunt was a rude back-stabber.

When she got home, she found Emily and Sarah sitting on the couch. Sarah was listening attentively while Emily read a story to her. Kristy crept in quietly so as not to disturb either of them. She quietly locked the door behind her and set her bags down on the counter before creeping into the living room. There, she stood in the threshold, watching the scene in front of her.

"I felt as if I had been transported to another time," Emily read. "And in a way, I had been. The empty lot next door was no longer a lot, but rather it had been transformed into the most beautiful garden I had ever seen. Lillies, roses, sunflowers, and honeysuckle surrounded me. There were flagstone paths and small angel cherub fountains. And in the middle of it all sat a girl on a white wicker bench. Her honey-blonde curls fell over her face, hiding it, but her voice carried. It was as soft as a bell and just as sweet. She was talking to a small doll that she cradled in her arms as lovingly as if it were a real baby. I had to blink, for there was a part of me that knew this girl wasn't real. But was she a ghost, or just a figment of my imagination? Hesitatingly, I took a step towards her."

"That sounds like a pretty garden," Sarah commented. "I want one like it."

Emily smiled a patient smile. "I'm sure someday you'll have one, but right now, it's hard to have a garden in the city."

"Not if you go to the park," Sarah replied, and Kristy stifled a laugh. That was Sarah, precocious beyond her years and always with a reply to whatever anyone said. Often, Sarah reminded Kristy of little Gabbie Perkins, a girl the club used to sit for. Even though Gabbie had been two and a half, she'd been light years beyond other babies her age. She kept up a steady stream of chatter with all of her baby-sitters, tap danced and tried ballet like her older sister, and knew all the words to tons of songs. She'd had a beautiful voice, too. It had always been hard to believe that Gabbie had been the same age as babies like Marnie Barrett, who blew raspberries at her sitters and expressed happiness by scrunching her face into a small smile. Even though Sarah was only almost three, she was just so smart for her age.

Kristy decided to step in. "Hi, guys," she said brightly, stepping into the living room.

"Mommy!" Sarah jumped up and greeted Kristy with her usual enthusiasm. Emily closed the book and got to her feet. "Hi, Ms. Thomas," she said.

"Did everything go all right?" Kristy asked. With Sarah hanging onto her leg, she turned and opened her purse, looking for her wallet.

"Perfect," Emily replied. "Sarah was an angel as usual."

Kristy grinned down at Sarah and then pulled out her wallet. "I'm glad she's not any trouble, and I really appreciate your taking time out to watch her occasionally." She handed Emily her pay, and feeling generous, slipped in an extra tip.

"Wow, thanks, Ms. Thomas." Emily smiled, her eyes bright. "It's really no trouble. I love to baby-sit, but a lot of adults don't let me because they don't think I'm old enough."

"Not old enough?" Kristy studied Emily. It was true that she was only twelve, and even then, she looked young for her age. But that was no reason not to give the girl a chance. "Well, don't listen to that. When I was your age, not only did I baby-sit, but I had my own baby-sitting club."

Emily's eyes widened. "A baby-sitting club? How did you do that?"

"Well, a few of my friends and I decided to get together and run it like a business." Sarah was hanging onto her leg, so Kristy kind of limped over to the couch, where she sat down. Sarah hurried to sit beside her. "We would meet three times a week and parents would call during those times to schedule a sitter."

"Hey, that's a great idea. And you were my age when you did it?"

"Absolutely," Kristy answered. "In fact, a couple of my friends were even younger than you when they joined."

"Boy, I wish I could do something like that," Emily said wistfully. "Maybe then people around here would take me seriously."

"So why don't you?" Kristy asked practically. Her motto had always been, if it's not broke, break it, and then find a way to fix it. There was always a solution.

Emily shrugged. "My friends aren't interested in sitting. I wouldn't have anyone to be in a club with. My friends are all interested in stupid things like boys and make-up. They think I'm a baby for liking kids and stuff."

"Well, that's absolutely not true," Kristy assured her. "I think there's nothing more mature than choosing to be responsible for another human being, and in that case, being extremely responsible while on the job. Boys and make-up come and go, but responsibility is never immature."

Emily brightened. "Hey, thanks, Ms. Thomas. I never thought of it like that."

Kristy grinned. It made her feel really good to help Emily out. She wished that someone had told her those things when she was Emily's age. Maybe it would have saved her from making mistakes later. Maybe not. But for right now, the advice put a smile on the little girl's face, and that made Kristy feel warm inside.

"I think I might try to start a club anyway," Emily went on. "Maybe I can find some other kids who like to baby-sit."

"That's the spirit," Kristy agreed.

Emily was still smiling when she headed for the door. "Thanks a lot, Ms. Thomas," she called behind her. "See you soon!"

After she was gone, Kristy turned to Sarah and smiled, hugging her daughter close. "Did you eat lunch yet?"

"No. Can I have a peanut butter and jelly?"

"Sure."

Kristy set about making both of them lunch. She served Sarah's sandwich with animal crackers and apple juice, and then made herself a salad and a glass of champagne. While they ate, Sarah chattered about what was going on in daycare. Kristy listened attentively to tales about what girl had a new dress and which teacher was the nicest because she handed out sparkly stickers. After lunch, Sarah went to her table to color in her books. Kristy left the dishes in the sink, poured herself another drink, and sat down at the other end of the table, where she'd set up her laptop computer. Over the weekend, Clive had asked her to write another batch of rejection letters. Kristy would do that later. She opened up the document that her manuscript was in and for awhile read over the things she'd written so far. Then she sat back and chewed on her nails, insecurity washing over her. Maybe it was a dumb idea for a book. Would she get a rejection letter if she asked Clive to read it? Or would it be more personal and more hurtful? Maybe he'd look over it, kiss her on the forehead and tell her it was a nice try, meanwhile thinking to himself that a baby-sitting club was a dumb thing to write a book about.

Could she even give it to Clive? Maybe it would be a conflict of interest. Both because she worked at Willow Books, and also because she was dating Clive Brighton. Beyond that, if she submitted it and it got published, would everyone accuse her of taking advantage of their relationship? Would people whisper that Kristy Thomas only got a book published because she was sleeping with the managing editor?

Kristy closed her eyes and dropped her head to the table softly, taking a deep breath. She tried to push all the negative thoughts out of her mind. Write the book, she told herself. Worry about the details later. Just write it down.

She took another deep breath and lifted her head, keeping her eyes closed for another couple of moments for extra clarity. Then she opened them and her gaze rested on the computer screen. She took a swig of alcohol, feeling the warm liquid running down her throat, enjoying the bitter taste. She hadn't been drinking as much, if at all, since the day she'd gotten completely wasted and forgot about poor Sarah. She'd missed the warm comfort of alcohol.

Kristy straightened her shoulders and steeled her memories. Poising her fingers over the keypad, she began to type.

_Nothing is perfect in the world of baby-sitting. But does that include. . .pet-sitting? _Kristy grinned to herself as she recounted the details of her first ever job with the BSC: a mix-up that had caused Kristy to end up sitting for two huge dogs named Pinky and Buffy. Before long, she was on a roll. She wrote about the pet-sitting, baby-sitting for her little siblings when they were convinced that the mansion was haunted by an ancestral ghost, about starting a children's baseball team. She pulled the old BSC notebook from its place in her bedroom, dug through it, and recounted stories about skinned knees, adventures, jobs that had turned into mysteries, close bonds between sitter and sittee, disasters, miracles, close scares, reunions. By the time she looked up again, a few hours had passed and she'd written tons of pages of rough draft.

Kristy sat back, yawned and stretched, then realized that the apartment was strangely silent. Kristy looked over at Sarah's table and saw that Sarah had abandoned it. "Darn it," she muttered, getting to her feet. "Sarah?" she called, her voice echoing. "Where are you?"

There was no answer. Kristy's heart began to pound, but right away she realized that Sarah had to be there somewhere. The doors and windows were all locked. Still, there were plenty of things that a two-year-old, even one as smart as Sarah, could get into and get hurt by. Kristy rushed down the hall, calling Sarah's name.

"What, Mommy?" Sarah appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Kristy jumped, startled, when Sarah's head popped out of her doorway.

"Sarah!" Kristy scooped her up and held her close. "What were you doing?"

Sarah's eyes were wide. "I got bored with the coloring books so I wanted to play with my dollies," she answered.

Kristy let out her breath. "Okay," she said finally, putting Sarah back down. "I worry when I can't find you."

"I'm sorry." Sarah's eyes grew even wider.

Kristy rubbed her forehead. "It's not your fault," she assured her daughter. Just then the phone rang. "Go back and play," Kristy went on, smiling encouragingly. Sarah looked at her for another moment, then trotted back into her room. Kristy dashed down the hall and grabbed the phone. "Hello?"

A deep, accented voice answered her. "Hello there." Clive.

Kristy sank down into a chair and smiled. "Hi," she answered.

"What are your plans tonight?" Clive asked.

"Nothing. Why?"

"Keep your evening cleared and find a baby-sitter," Clive commanded. "I've got a surprise for you."

"A surprise? What is it?"

"If I told you, then it wouldn't be a surprise." She could practically see him smiling at his kid games. Kristy shook her head, half-annoyed and half-delighted. "I'll be by at seven to pick you up," Clive went on.

"Okay, okay."

After they hung up, Kristy chewed on a nail. Who could baby-sit? Not Emily. Kristy might be out late and besides, Emily had already baby-sat once that day. Stacey? No. Kristy called on Stacey far too often. But who else? _Damn, could I use the BSC_, Kristy thought, her mind still on her book.

After some scrambling, Kristy called Maria Snyder from work. Maria wasn't really a friend, but she had never stopped being pleasant to Kristy. Or at least, as pleasant as she ever was. When Kristy called her to ask her to stay with Sarah, Maria's first words were, "Out to get some booty, huh?"

"_No_. Jeez, thanks a lot," Kristy snapped defensively.

Maria just laughed. "Relax. Of course I'll watch Sarah. I love kids. They're so innocent."

"Thanks," Kristy said, letting out her breath. "Come over by seven." She gave Maria her address and then went down the hall to Sarah's room. "I'm going out tonight," she announced. "A fun girl named Maria will come over to stay with you."

To Kristy's surprise, Sarah burst into tears.

Kristy was by her side in an instant. "What's the matter?" she asked, alarmed.

"You're always leaving," Sarah sobbed. "Before you would put me to bed. I don't like when strange people put me to bed. I miss Mommy."

Kristy felt terrible. How come she had never stopped to consider what a sudden string of baby-sitters would do to her daughter? For the past few years, Sarah had known nothing but her mother being with her every day after daycare and every night when she went to bed. But since Kristy had befriended Stacey again and started seeing Clive, suddenly for Sarah it was her mom sometimes, and baby-sitters other times.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry," Kristy cooed as Sarah continued to cry. "Don't you like Emily and Stacey?"

"Uh huh." Sarah took a gulp of air. "But they're not my mom."

"Do you really hate it when I leave?" Kristy asked her.

Sarah looked up at her and her blue eyes were even brighter than usual because they were filled with tears. She nodded. "I don't like when you leave. I don't like when you leave and don't come back."

"When I leave and don't come back?" Kristy was horrified. "What do you mean?"

"When you leave with Clive, I fall asleep with the baby-sitter and then you never come back. Do you like Clive better than you like me? Did I do something bad?"

Kristy's heart sank. "Oh, baby, of course not!" She hugged Sarah even more tightly and shook her head, feeling her own eyes water. "Of course not. I could never like or love anybody better than you."

"So stay with me," Sarah said stubbornly.

Kristy pushed back stray pieces of blonde hair from Sarah's damp face and looked her daughter in the eyes. Sarah came first, no matter what. "Okay," she murmured. "I'll stay with you. I promise."

A few minutes later, Sarah had stopped crying. Kristy stayed in her room with her and devoted herself to playing dolls for awhile. She devoted herself so immensely that she didn't realize how much time had passed until there was a knock at the door.

Maria or Clive. Damn. "I'll be right back," Kristy promised.

"Okay," Sarah agreed.

In the living room, Kristy found Maria at the door. "Maria, I'm sorry. Something came up and I didn't think to call you and cancel," Kristy explained in a rush. "I'm really sorry."

Maria was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt and she was carrying a bag, probably full of toys and games. Kristy could see the corner of a teddy bear sticking out. "Oh," Maria said, raising her eyebrows. "Emergency?"

"Sort of," Kristy replied.

Maria shrugged. "Okay. Shit happens. Don't worry about it."

"I can still pay you for coming out," Kristy offered.

Maria shook her head. "Don't worry about it," she repeated. "I can always use the fresh air. I don't live very far."

Kristy felt bad, but she knew that Clive was probably only minutes away, and that thought made her feel even worse. "Let's have lunch together next week," Kristy said impulsively. "My treat, okay?"

Maria shrugged again. "Sure. I never pass up a free meal. See you next week."

Kristy said good-bye and watched her walk down the hall. Just as Maria disappeared into one of the elevators, Clive emerged from the other one. He looked as handsome as always, and when he spotted Kristy, his face broke into a smile. "I didn't expect a welcoming committee," he said when he reached her doorway. He bent over to kiss her.

Kristy didn't kiss back. Instead she just stepped aside to let him into the apartment.

Clive, of course, was very receptive and he knew immediately that something was wrong. "What is it?" he asked.

Kristy took a deep breath. "I can't go out with you tonight," she said.

"Why not?"

Kristy let out her breath. "I have a daughter," she said carefully. "I can't just keep dumping her on sitters while I go out with you. It's not fair. When I told her I would go out tonight, she burst into tears. She said I'm always leaving her and I never used to. She's right."

Clive was quiet for a few minutes. He had that thoughtful look on his face that he always got when Kristy talked. It was like he needed to absorb her words carefully before he could consider how to answer them. The sight of his piercing blue eyes caused a lump to form in her throat. She liked Clive. She liked him a lot. Maybe in time she could grow to love him, if she allowed herself to. But if she was going to have to choose between a relationship with a man and a relationship with her daughter . . . Kristy already knew how she'd have to choose. Even if it wasn't easy, it was crystal clear.

"I need to be with her," Kristy said softly. "I don't want to turn into a mother who doesn't know her daughter because she's off searching for a second chance at life and love."

"I understand," Clive said after a moment.

Was this it? Kristy gazed up at him, willing herself to think of a solution. A way to have the best of both worlds. Was it even possible? Not without hurting someone. And maybe it was terrible of her, but since she had to choose, she would choose to hurt Clive before she hurt her daughter.

"I understand and respect your decision," Clive said, as if he were reading her mind. He was gazing down at her, his eyes a blue cloud of regret.

"It doesn't mean that I don't--" Kristy began, but Clive shook his head, silently cutting her off.

"I know," he said, with a hint of a very sad smile.

_Say you still want to try, _Kristy silently urged him. But he just stood there, as if he were willing her to say the same thing. Try as she might, she couldn't force the words out. She didn't want to shut him out, as he'd asked her not to. But she didn't know how she could work around Sarah. Would Clive want to go to her every night? Never go out on dates, or try to be a father to Sarah when she wasn't his responsibility? He deserved more than that. He was such a wonderful man that Kristy knew he deserved more than she could offer. That was why she had to let him go before either got too attached.

_I'll have to find a new job after this, _Kristy thought detachedly.

"Maybe we can sort it out," Clive began. But Kristy's decision was made. She looked up at him and maybe something in her eyes gave it away, because he closed his mouth, not saying anymore. Kristy felt her vision go blurry with tears that threatened to spill over. They might have, if Sarah hadn't called out, "Mommy?" from her bedroom. It reminded Kristy that she had a job to do. She had someone who needed her, and she needed to be devoted to Sarah completely.

She cleared her throat. "Coming, sweetie," she called back. She looked back at Clive apologetically. He nodded, let out a small cough, and stepped towards the door. "Uh, here," he said awkwardly, reaching inside his jacket for a single rose. It was gorgeous, a mixture of pink, red, purple, orange and blue. Somehow, it looked natural. "This was for you," he went on, handing it to her.

Kristy took it silently, the tears threatening to spill more than ever.

He leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss on her cheek. His lips were as soft as a whisper. In a moment of pure passion, Kristy turned her head and pressed her lips hard against his. She kept them there for a moment or two and then pulled back, looking up into his eyes. He looked back at her for a few seconds, then turned towards the door. A minute later, he was gone.

Kristy wanted to dissolve into tears, but she was stronger than that. She reminded herself that she was an independent woman. She didn't need to shed any tears over a man. But the thoughts didn't convince her and the tears that had threatened to spill were now running down her cheeks.

"Mommy?" called Sarah again.

"Just a minute." Kristy wiped her eyes and turned to go into the kitchen. She filled a clear blue vase with water and put Clive's rose in it, displaying it on the counter. Soon its radiant colors would fade, the petals would turn brown and harden and eventually fall to the counter top like autumn leaves. But for now, it was beautiful.

The phone rang. Kristy wiped away the last of her tears and took a deep breath before answering. "Hello?'

"Kristy?" It was Stacey and she sounded desperate.

"Stace? What's the matter?"

Stacey paused for a moment, as if she were taking a deep breath. "I spoke to Mary Anne tonight," Stacey said finally, choosing her words carefully. "Her father had some bad news for her."

Kristy immediately forgot about her pain. Her radar went up. Something was seriously wrong. "What is it?" she whispered. She gripped the phone so hard that her hand went numb as she waited for Stacey's answer.

"Kristy, Watson had another heart attack."


	11. I'm Tired of Living in the Dark

Chapter Eleven

For a few actual minutes, Kristy was too stunned to speak. She was too stunned to even move. Stacey was still talking, but it was as if her voice was coming from the far end of a long, dark tunnel. The horrible words kept repeating themselves over and over again in Kristy's brain, like some kind of sick mantra. Watson had another heart attack . . . Watson had another heart attack . . .

The first time Watson, her stepfather, had had a heart attack, she was thirteen years old and it was because he was overworked as CEO of his successful corporation. Even though he'd been okay, it had been a scary experience. But a second heart attack? Would he be so lucky to be all right?

"What?" Kristy finally managed to say.

"Apparently he collapsed at work," Stacey was saying. "They don't know what caused it, exactly, but he's in the hospital, in intensive care. Mary Anne said that she was going to Stoneybrook tonight to see your mother and help with the kids. I told her that I'd go with her. So I'll be by your apartment in a few minutes to pick you up, and. . ."

"Hold it," Kristy said weakly. Stacey's words were barely registering up until that point. Fear shot through Kristy's body. "Pick me up?"

"Kristy!" Stacey exclaimed. "Your family needs you!"

Kristy shook her head so hard that she gave herself a headache. Or maybe it was the stress. She pressed her hand to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. "No, no," she protested. "I won't be much good. I mean. . .let me know what's going on. . ."

Stacey was silent for a couple of moments. When she spoke again, her voice was full of controlled anger. "Kristy, maybe you didn't get what I said. Your _father_ had a heart attack. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Of course it does," Kristy replied. "But I can't…I mean--"

"Oh, forget it," Stacey snapped. "I don't know why I even called you. I thought you changed, Kristy, and I thought I understood what you're going through, but I was wrong. You're just as immature as you ever were."

"Immature?" Kristy repeated blankly.

"Yes, immature," Stacey shot back. "Only someone who is completely immature and selfish would continue to hide out and wallow in self pity when she's well aware of the fact that her family _needs_ her. Stay in New York then. Don't bother showing up to Watson's funeral, either." With that, Stacey slammed the phone down so hard that Kristy could feel it shake through miles of phone lines. Slowly, Kristy carefully set the receiver back in the cradle. Her hands were shaking. She stared at them for a few minutes, as if they were foreign, alien's hands, and not her own. She didn't recognize her stubby fingernails or the bracelet she wore around her wrist. The bracelet was vibrating with her hands' motions. And her head was pounding. She was reeling from Stacey's comments, but she couldn't even dredge up the strength to be insulted. In fact, Stacey was right.

Kristy's mind drifted to Watson. Watson, who had been nothing but nice to her since she met him. Even in the beginning, when Kristy hated the idea of her mother's dating. When she did her damnedest to push Watson out of her family's world. Even then, he never stopped trying. After he and Kristy's mother were married, he gave Kristy everything she needed, and offered even more. He provided her with a beautiful bedroom in a beautiful house. He took her family on vacations to Disney World, across the country, ski lodges, and not only tolerated it when she wanted to bring her band of friends along, but rather encouraged it. He bought her clothes when she needed them. He came and videotaped her school plays and gave her bouquets of red roses in high school. He was much more of a father to her than her biological father had ever been. And here she was. Living in an apartment paid for with money stolen from him. Hiding her child from someone who would be nothing but a wonderful grandfather. Turning her back on him when he was in the hospital after a heart attack.

Kristy tried to push the thoughts away. He wouldn't want to see her, she told herself. He probably resented his stepdaughter, who's future had once been promising, but instead she left a legacy of being a runaway thief. He probably hated her. He probably thought that she was an ungrateful, spoiled brat who turned her back on her family.

But. . . wasn't she?

As her thoughts had been running, she'd been heading to the counter, pouring herself a drink, but the thought made her stop cold. Only the tinkling of liquid made her snap out of it. She looked down and realized with a start that her champagne had reached the top of her glass and continued spilling over, fizzing all over the counter. Kristy stopped pouring and reached mechanically for a dish towel, wiping up the spill. Was she really an ungrateful, spoiled brat? Maybe that was her problem all along. She'd been hiding, suffering, wallowing in self pity, as Stacey had said. But, no. After all, her feelings were real. She wasn't imagining them. She'd truly been hurt, in a way she'd never been hurt before.

But maybe it was time to move on from that. Maybe after awhile, it wasn't the hurt that kept her so hollow. Maybe it was just pure stubbornness. Somewhere, the pain had ended and she didn't know how to just fucking _deal_, and so she kept on going as she was. Well, not anymore.

Kristy grabbed the phone, feeling a resolve so strong, she couldn't push it back. She didn't even want to. Suddenly, she knew what she had to do. She had to be the strong girl that she had once been. Quickly, she dialed Stacey's number, hoping she wasn't too late.

She wasn't. Stacey picked up after about three rings. "Hello?" she said breathlessly.

"It's me," Kristy said simply. "Come pick me up." And then she hung up the phone before she had a chance to change her mind.

"Sarah!" Kristy bellowed, running down the hall to Sarah's bedroom. Sarah was sitting on the floor, half-heartedly walking a doll around on the floor.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Come on." Kristy knelt down and picked Sarah up, hoisting her onto her bed. "Put your shoes on, okay? We're going on a trip."

Sarah's eyes were wide as she obediently reached for her scuffed Powerpuff Girl sneakers. "To where?"

Kristy had gone to Sarah's closet and grabbed a pink suitcase. She began grabbing clothes off of hangers and setting them in the suitcase as neatly as she could. T-shirts for around the house, pants for outside, Sarah's jacket, an extra pair of sneakers, socks, underwear. "To see our family," she answered finally. When Sarah was done with her shoes, Kristy told her to pack up a bag with toys and games that she wanted to bring. Then she zipped up the pink suitcase and headed to her own bedroom to pack. Grabbing sweaters and jeans for herself, she tossed them into her large black duffel bag. She added underwear, socks, a couple of books, and her laptop to the bag, zipped it closed, and let out her breath just as Stacey buzzed in.

Kristy ran to the living room and opened the door. Stacey looked hurried and frazzled, but even under those conditions, she was gorgeous, dressed impeccably in a pair of black jeans, a violet sweater, and a white leather jacket. But her blue eyes were filled with tears. "Oh, Kristy," she said when Kristy opened the door. Kristy felt her own eyes welling with tears. She and Stacey shared a long, meaningful hug, silence speaking louder than any words could. Then Kristy called to Sarah.

It took a few minutes of organizing, but finally Kristy was ready to leave. Stacey carried Sarah's pink suitcase, while Sarah strapped on her backpack, filled with dolls and blocks and books. Kristy tried to call Clive, but she only got his voice mail. She left a hurried message. "It's Kristy. I've had a family emergency and I'm leaving town immediately. I'll be out of work indefinitely. Call a temp. I'll be in touch." It was impersonal and for a minute, she wondered if she should add anything else. But she didn't. She didn't have time to worry about it. Instead, after she hung up, she turned off her phone and switched on the answering machine. She checked her appliances, made sure they were turned off, locked all the windows, and turned off the lights. Then they left, and she locked the door tightly behind her.

"I'm meeting Mary Anne at Grand Central Station," Stacey explained on the way. "We're going to try and get immediate tickets to Stoneybrook."

Kristy nodded, clasping her hands together nervously. In just a few minutes, she'd be face-to-face with her best friend again. But even that was nothing compared to what was waiting for her when she reached Stoneybrook. She took a deep breath.

Next to her, Sarah looked up at her. She'd been silent since Kristy had burst into her room and began packing. She seemed to understand that something was wrong, but she didn't know what, and she didn't ask. She just scooted as close to Kristy as she possibly could. Kristy wrapped an arm around her comfortingly.

It wasn't long before they got a cab and it had reached the train station. Kristy followed Stacey into the main lobby. Right away, Stacey called, "Mary Anne!"

Kristy's heart was pounding, and she actually tried to shield herself behind Stacey. But she could still see who Stacey was waving at. She clutched at Sarah's hand. Mary Anne had changed, and yet she was still the same. She'd gotten taller. Her brown hair, which she used to keep short, had grown out over her shoulders. She had golden high lights streaked through it. And she was dressed like a regular New Yorker, in a pair of jeans that had studs around the legs. Her feet were clad in black ankle boots and underneath a very chic, faux fur-trimmed leather jacket, she was wearing a black silk top that shimmered when she moved.

Stacey seemed to realize then that Kristy was hiding. "Kristy," she hissed. "Come on, it's Mary Anne."

Kristy was shaking, but she tried to hide it. Attempting to bring out the outspoken tomboy she used to be, she took a deep breath and stepped out from behind Stacey just as Mary Anne reached them.

Mary Anne was looking at Stacey. She glanced at Kristy and began to say, "I managed to get two tickets--" She stopped and did a double-take. Her eyes locked with Kristy's and her jaw dropped so much, it was almost comical.

"_Kristy?" _she said after a moment.

Kristy nodded. "Hi," she replied. Her voice came out like a croak because her throat was so dry.

Mary Anne opened and closed her mouth a few times, and finally, out of sheer nervousness, Kristy cracked a smile. "Your excitement is overwhelming," she said. "Don't talk so much or I won't be able to keep up."

Stacey grinned and finally Mary Anne closed her mouth. "I don't believe it," she murmured. She turned to Stacey accusingly. "You found her? When?"

"Awhile ago," Stacey admitted. "She knows about Watson. She's coming to Stoneybrook with us."

Something flashed through Mary Anne's eyes. Something like anger. But it was so quick that Kristy didn't have time to analyze it. Mary Anne forced a smile and turned back to Kristy. "Wow. I mean, I'm glad you're okay. It's, uh, good to see you." She stepped forward and gave Kristy a polite hug, as if they were strangers. Kristy was bewildered. Mary Anne was the most sensitive human being on the entire East Coast. Kristy would have expected her to be crying buckets by now.

Stacey looked confused, too. But they really didn't have time to pursue the matter. Mary Anne went back to Stacey. "I found two tickets," she repeated. "The train leaves in about half an hour. I guess you need to get one too, Kristy."

"Two, actually." Sarah was still completely hidden by Stacey. Kristy pulled her a little and reluctantly, Sarah stepped out.

Mary Anne's eyes widened again. "Who's this?" she asked.

"My daughter," Kristy said simply.

Mary Anne shot another look at Kristy, but this time she couldn't hide any surprise. "_Your daughter?"_

"Yeah. It's a long story." 

"I'm sure," Mary Anne snapped. Kristy blinked. Mary Anne quickly closed her mouth and turned away, kneeling down to Sarah's height. "Hi. I'm Mary Anne," she said in her cheerful, baby-sitter's voice. "What's your name?"

"Sarah," Sarah replied shyly.

"Sarah, what a pretty name."

Kristy and Stacey exchanged glances over Mary Anne's head. Then Stacey cleared her throat. "Come on, let's get those tickets," she said.

Mary Anne gave Kristy the cold shoulder for the rest of the night. Kristy didn't bother trying to figure it out. Mary Anne would come around, she told herself. She was just surprised.

On the train, Sarah fell asleep almost immediately. She leaned up against Kristy and stuck her two fingers into her mouth, her eyes closed. Looking at her, Kristy realized that for once, she actually looked and seemed like a two-year-old.

She leaned her own head against the large glass window next to her, watching the dark scenery fly by. The train that they were on had benches instead of seats, and Kristy and Sarah shared one bench. Across from them, on a bench that faced them, was Mary Anne and Stacey. Stacey was flipping through a magazine and Mary Anne was busily knitting something. Kristy wondered if she should say anything, but she couldn't find any words. Anyway, it didn't really matter. She just kept her eyes straight out the window, her thoughts drifting.

The train pulled into the Stoneybrook station in a cloud of steam that billowed from the tracks and wisped out onto the platform, as if it were a scene in a forties movie. When Kristy stepped off the train, she stopped and looked around. It was so familiar and yet it was different, as well. She hadn't been there since three years before, when she'd boarded a train to New York City. She had been a different person, then.

"Come on." Mary Anne's voice cut into her thoughts. "I'll call a cab."

Not too long later, they were in a cab, driving through Stoneybrook. The town was dark, quiet and sleepy, even though it wasn't too much past eleven. In New York, the streets were wild and full of life deep into the night and then again the next morning. But in Stoneybrook, the shops were all closed, and the streets were deserted. Most of the tidy, well-kept houses were dark, with only a few stray lights coming from one or two houses. Kristy kept looking around, recognizing places. Claudia Kishi's old house and BSC headquarters. Stoneybrook Middle School. The Pizza Express was gone, replaced by a boutique. But the Rosebud Café was still there. So was Bellair's.

Finally, the cab headed into the more upscale part of town, where the roads were well-paved and lined with fresh trees that were glittering with autumn colored leaves. Some leaves scattered onto the ground and flew into the air when the cab passed them. The houses were far away from the road, only their tips visible to the public. They went down a few streets, and then finally pulled onto McLelland Road. Kristy's heart began to pound and her hands felt clammy. This was it. After all this time, it looked exactly the same. Shannon Kilbourne's mailbox was still that silly, miniature house that her mother had put up during high school. Kristy could see herself walking down the sidewalk, wearing a baseball cap and jeans, walking her dog, Louie. She saw ghosts of herself meeting Shannon Kilbourne for the first time, sticking her tongue out at the snobby girl who she later became friends with. She saw ghosts of children playing in the streets, shouting and laughing to each other.

The cab stopped in front of Kristy's mansion. Kristy swallowed hard a few times, looking up at the beautiful house as if it were a foreign castle, not a home where she'd lived for so many years. Her house. A place she'd never expected to be again. She felt a lump in her throat and glanced over at Stacey.

Stacey was looking at her sympathetically. "Are you all right?" she asked.

Kristy nodded. "I . . .do you mind if I go up first? Alone?"

Stacey nodded in understanding. Mary Anne said nothing. "Keep Sarah here for a few minutes," Kristy added, glancing at Sarah, who was asleep again.

"Sure."

She took a deep breath and opened the cab door, stepping out into the cold air. Grabbing her duffel bag, she put it over her shoulder and turned, looking up at the house. It was ironic, but she was returning looking like, well, a runaway. Her hair was a bit on the messy side. She was wearing baggy jeans, sneakers, and an oversized black sweatshirt. Her bag was slung over her shoulder. But there was nothing she could do but walk up the long, winding driveway and face her past. And her future.

She wondered who would be there. Sam and Charlie, her older brothers? Probably not. They'd left years ago, for college, and she wasn't even sure where they lived now. David Michael, her younger brother? He was fourteen now, just like Karen, Kristy's stepsister. They'd probably be home. Not Andrew, Kristy's stepbrother. He was eleven, but years ago he'd gone and moved with his mother and stepfather to Chicago. And Emily Michelle, Kristy's youngest sister? She was only nine. Were they all at the hospital, or were they at home, in the kitchen, waiting for news, like last time? Maybe Karen would be entertaining Emily with some games. Maybe Nannie, Kristy's grandmother, was puttering around in the kitchen, making cookies and telling everyone that it would be okay.

Was Kristy's mother home? Or would she be at the hospital, too?

Kristy didn't have any more time to think. She was going to lose her nerve. She rounded the house and went to the kitchen entrance. She didn't hear any noise. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her fist and knocked loudly on the door. She supposed she could have just gone on in. But it wasn't as if she lived there anymore. Walking in didn't feel right. So she waited.

It was a few minutes, and Kristy began to think that nobody was home, after all. But then the doorknob turned. Kristy's heart leapt into her throat as the door opened and she found herself facing her mother.

She didn't know what to say. Mrs. Brewer's eyes widened, and she looked at Kristy as if she were a stranger. For a few moments, there was nothing but silence as they stared at each other. Kristy's face was a mask of sadness, silently asking her mother to forgive her. And Mrs. Brewer's held only surprise. But then, slowly, her face softened and she looked as if she were going to cry.

Wordlessly, Mrs. Brewer stepped forward and pulled Kristy into a hug so tight, she almost couldn't breathe. But Kristy didn't care. She held on for dear life, hugging her mother with the same fervor. Somehow, right then, she didn't need any words.

But silence didn't explain everything, nor did it tell Kristy what she needed to know. When she finally unlocked herself from her mother's embrace, the first thing she said was, "How's Watson?"

Mrs. Brewer let out her breath and stepped back so that Kristy could enter the house. "He's going to be okay," she assured Kristy. "He collapsed at the office, but fortunately it was a mild one. He was released fairly quickly from intensive care into a room. He'll be there for a few days. I decided to come home and be with the kids tonight." Then she blinked. "How did you know about Watson?"

Kristy shrugged. "Stacey McGill told me."

"When was this?"

"Today. Well, tonight. Richard Spier told Mary Anne, who told Stacey, who told me."

"I see." Mrs. Brewer crossed her arms. "Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to see you, but am I to believe that all this time your friends have known where you were and never told us? Where were you, for that matter? I think that we have a lot to talk about."

"Yes." Kristy set down her duffel on the counter and looked her mother straight in the eye. "We do have a lot to talk about."

* * *

"I just can't believe all of this," Mrs. Brewer said later that night. She, Mary Anne, Stacey, and Kristy were gathered around in the living room, sitting on the comfortable, familiar couches. Kristy was curled up next to her mother and had changed into a sweatshirt and sweatpants. Her hands were curled around a mug of hot chocolate.

It had taken a couple of hours, but Kristy had explained everything to her mother. First she'd gestured from the front door for her friends to come inside from the cab. Then she'd had to introduce (and explain) Sarah. Then, when Sarah had been set up in one of the guest bedrooms and went to sleep, Kristy sat down with her mother and her friends and the entire story spilled out.

Now, it was very late and the news, and Kristy's presence in the Brewer household, was still sinking in. Finally, Mrs. Brewer shook her head. "Kristy, honey, what I still don't understand is why you didn't just tell Watson and I what was going on. Any disappointment you might have thought we'd feel would have been nothing compared to the worry we went through."

"I know." Kristy hung her head, feeling like a thirteen year old again. "I'm sorry."

Mrs. Brewer nodded, letting out a sigh. "It's getting late," she replied. "I think we should all just talk about this some more in the morning. Right now, we need some sleep."

"Where is everyone, anyway?" Kristy asked.

"Karen, David Michael, and Emily are in bed, and Nannie's at her apartment. She moved into her own place about six months ago."

"Oh."

"Come on, girls," Mrs. Brewer said. "Let's find you places to sleep."

Awhile later, Kristy had settled into the guest room that she and Sarah were going to share, and Mary Anne and Stacey shared another room. Kristy went about changing her clothes to get ready for bed while her mother helped her unpack.

"I do have to say," Mrs. Brewer said as she put away Kristy's last t-shirt, "that it's good to have you home again."

Kristy looked up at her mother and felt tears spring to her eyes. Mrs. Brewer also looked a little choked up. Slowly she crossed the room and wrapped Kristy into another hug. Kristy hung onto her tightly, sniffling back a few tears.

"Good night," Mrs. Brewer said as she let Kristy go.

"Good night," Kristy replied.

After Mrs. Brewer left, Kristy turned down her bed sheets and climbed into bed, exhaustion creeping over her body. But she couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned for awhile until finally she sat up. She knew what was bothering her.

She slowly reached for the phone on the bedside table and picked up the phone. Her fingers automatically dialed the only number she knew by heart. One ring, two rings, three rings. . . He picked up. "Hello?" Clive asked.

Kristy opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Finally, her hand trembling, she slowly replaced the phone into its cradle.

Then she buried her head under her pillow and closed her eyes, trying once again to get some sleep.

* * *

Kristy stayed in bed as long as possible the next morning. She was avoiding her siblings. She didn't know if Mrs. Brewer would break the news to them that she was home, or if she had to do it herself. Either way, she wasn't looking forward to it. She was eager to see them, of course. The problem was that she wasn't sure if they would be eager to see her.

So even though she was awake by dawn, she stayed in bed with her laptop, working on her book. Across the room, Sarah slept peacefully until almost nine in the morning. But when she started tossing and turning, Kristy knew that she had to go and face the music.

The guest bedroom, fortunately, had an adjoining bathroom. She took Sarah into the bath with her and then took her time fixing them up. She combed Sarah's hair until it was shiny and pulled it up into pigtails fasted with blue bows. Kristy dressed her in a blue jumper, a white t-shirt that had a yellow duck on it, and a pair of blue Mary Janes with white socks. "Everyone will love you," Kristy commented.

Sarah grinned and sat on the bed, swinging her legs and watching her mother get dressed. For herself, Kristy chose a pair of jeans and a black, off-the shoulder sweater over a dark purple tank top. She pulled her hair up away from her face, slipped on sneakers, and then, for a final touch, smoothed a little lip gloss on her lips. There. She was ready.

"Come on," Kristy said to Sarah with cheerfulness in her voice. "Let's go get some breakfast."

The house was quiet when Kristy finally emerged from her room. Slowly, holding Sarah's hand, they made their way down the front stairs. Whispered voices were coming from the kitchen. Kristy approached slowly, trying to eavesdrop.

"She's here now?" someone asked in a hush.

"Yes." That was Mrs. Brewer. "I want you all to be on your best behavior. No questions. Kristy and I talked for a long time last night and she's been through a lot. Don't be too hard on her."

"We don't even get to know where she's been?" This time it was a female voice. Karen?

"She's been in New York," Mrs. Brewer answered.

"Why?" This time it was a boy's voice.

Kristy had completely stopped now and she was just standing outside of the kitchen, shamelessly listening to her family discuss her reappearance. She heard Mrs. Brewer let out a sigh before answering, "There were circumstances. I should tell you that she's got someone with her." Mrs. Brewer paused. "She has a daughter."

"You're kidding!" Karen exclaimed loudly.

"Shh!" Mrs. Brewer hissed. "No, I am not kidding. Like I said, she's had a very tough time and there were circumstances. So, like I said, please do not give her a rough time."

Kristy had heard enough. Now was as good a time as any to make a dramatic entrance. She stepped around the corner leading into the kitchen and cleared her throat. "I guess you all know I'm here," she announced herself.

Everyone looked up. Kristy had never been a particularly shy person, but she felt nervous as all eyes turned on her at once and immediately, all conversation ceased. Sitting around the kitchen table was Mrs. Brewer, Karen, David Michael, and Emily. Mrs. Brewer gave Kristy a warm smile, but Kristy was too busy looking at her siblings. Karen had grown up a lot. She'd been pretty as a child but now she was almost breathtaking. Her long blonde hair was hanging loose around her shoulders, the top part held back with a pink headband. She was wearing a pink sweatshirt and blue jeans and her blue eyes looked even bluer than usual. Next to her, David Michael was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, a baseball cap backwards over his curly dark hair. Emily had her black hair pulled up into a high ponytail, fastened with a yellow tie. It matched the yellow dress that she was wearing. The three kids looked at Kristy, stunned.

"Kristy!" Karen said finally, rising from her seat. "Oh my god, I can't believe it." She hurried around to embrace her older sister.

"Hi, sweetie," Kristy replied, hugging her back. "Hi David Michael. Emily," she added. She lifted the hand that was still attached to Sarah. "This is my daughter, Sarah."

Karen immediately reached down and picked up Sarah. "Hi there," Karen bubbled. "Boy, you are a cutie. How old are you?"

"Almost three," Sarah replied.

"I love your hair," Karen went on. "You look like a very lovely lady." Sarah giggled.

Mrs. Brewer was smiling softly. "Why don't you have some breakfast," she suggested, "and then we'll go and see Watson at the hospital."

Kristy nodded. "Definitely," she agreed.

It was time to face her stepfather.


	12. Questions and Answers

Chapter Twelve

"I'd like to see Watson alone," Kristy said when they were in the hallway outside of Watson's room. "If that's okay."

Mrs. Brewer nodded and touched Kristy's shoulder gently before taking Karen and David Michael into the room with her. Stacey and Mary Anne had stayed at the Brewer mansion, volunteering to look after Emily Michelle and Sarah. After her mother disappeared into Watson's room, Kristy doubled back to the elevator and rode it down to the first floor lobby. There, she went into the gift shop. She wanted to get something for Watson, but what could she get? What would even begin to say that she was sorry? Kristy browsed over flowers, toys, magazines, and cards before she finally found the perfect thing. It was a statue of a little girl dressed in an oversized baseball uniform. Her baseball hat was slung low over her forehead. In one hand, she carried a baseball bat and in the other, a ball. On the bottom of the statue, which was shaped like a batting plate, were the words, "Daddy's Little Baseball Buddy." Kristy figured it was appropriate. Watson had always encouraged her interest in softball when she was a kid and had often taken time out to help her with her team and play catch with her in the yard. She added a "Get Well Soon" card and was just returning up to Watson's floor when her mother was leaving the room.

"Is it okay to go in?" Kristy asked, clutching her gift bag nervously.

Mrs. Brewer nodded. "Only for a few minutes," she replied.

Kristy took a deep breath and stepped past her mother, into the hospital room. It was quiet. The TV was turned off and the only sound was a little beeping noise from one of the machines. Watson was laying in bed, his eyes closed. For a moment, Kristy just looked at him. He looked the same, and yet he wasn't. His thinning hair was a little grayer, and he wasn't wearing his glasses. The white hospital gown he wore made him look washed out. And he looked frail laying there amidst all the hospital blankets.

Kristy cleared her throat. "Watson," she said timidly.

Watson blinked his eyes open and turned, narrowing his eyes as if it would make him see who it was. After a moment, his eyes widened even further. "Kristy?" he finally managed to say.

Kristy nodded and stepped further into the room. "It's me, Watson."

"Oh, Kristy." Watson closed his eyes for a moment and then reopened them. When he did, they were glistening with tears. "Oh, my. I never imagined . . .are you all right?"

"Of course I am," Kristy said gently. She set the gift bag on the table next to him and pulled up a chair. "I should be asking you that. I came as soon as I heard. I was worried."

"Don't you worry about me," Watson replied. "I've never felt better, especially now that my daughter's back."

Kristy smiled. For a few moments, they sat and talked quietly. Watson's face betrayed no anger or resentment or even disappointment. Just joy and happiness, and even more so when Kristy told him about her daughter. She left out some of the more painful details, and he didn't ask. She just told him she'd been in New York with her daughter and that they'd talk more about it later. Watson seemed pleased.

"Thanks for coming," Watson said after a nurse poked her head in and told them that time was up.

"I wanted to," Kristy replied honestly.

She leaned over and gave him a gentle yet firm hug. "I'll see you soon," she promised. Watson nodded, already drifting to sleep. Slowly, Kristy crept out of the room to where her mother was waiting. Mrs. Brewer didn't say anything. She just wrapped an arm around Kristy's shoulders. Then they headed home.

* * *

That night, Karen begged Kristy to baby-sit Sarah. "I'm old enough," Karen was saying excitedly. "We can go to the movies and I'll take her for an ice cream."

Kristy wanted to say no. Not that she thought Karen was irresponsible or too young. She was remembering Sarah's breakdown and was worried that Sarah might not react well to someone who was a complete stranger, especially in a new place, away from New York. But when Karen said the magical words, "Ice cream," Sarah's face lit up.

"Ice cream!" she squealed. "Oh, Mommy, please can I?"

"Please?" Karen added.

Kristy couldn't help but smile. She supposed it would be good for Sarah to get to know Karen and the rest of her family. "All right. Not to a movie, but for some ice cream. Only for about an hour."

"Great!" Karen said excitedly.

Kristy gave Karen enough money for two ice cream cones at Friendly's. "Have fun and be careful," she called as Karen and Sarah hurriedly left. It was still daylight outside, though it was growing darker by the minute. "And be back in an hour!" she added.

"Boy," said Stacey, coming up behind Kristy as Kristy closed the front door. "You sound like my mother."

Kristy turned and raised her eyebrows.

"When I lived in New York when I was a kid," Stacey went on, "I could never get out the door without my mother telling me to have fun and be careful. I always thought she was being so overprotective. I thought I was so grown up. Then I look out the window at Karen and Sarah and Karen looks so young. Even though she's a year older than we were."

Kristy nodded in agreement, following Stacey's gaze out the side parlor window. Karen and Sarah were heading down the driveway, their identical blonde heads bobbing as they chatted. Karen held tightly onto Sarah's hand. She really did look young. "Suddenly I understand why my mom was so overprotective," Stacey finished.

Kristy looked out the corner of her eye at Stacey. It was so weird how close they'd gotten in the past couple of months. Way back when, they would never have considered themselves close. At least, not any closer than anyone else in the club. In middle school, friendships were so restrictive, so defining. So and so was your best friend and that was it, and you weren't supposed to be closer to anyone else. Stacey had Claudia, and Kristy had Mary Anne. They had to stay in their perfect little roles, never breaking out of the mold. But now, Mary Anne might as well have been a stranger. Kristy didn't even know how to begin to break the ice between them. And Stacey had been more supportive than anyone else. It was odd, but at the same time, strangely comforting.

She didn't say anything about it, though. She just changed the subject. "I have to call Clive," she said. "I don't know when I'll be going back to New York. If at all. My lease is up soon. Maybe I should find somewhere here in Stoneybrook to live."

Stacey nodded and Kristy hurried up the stairs to her room. Closing the door behind her, she had to admit that it was nice to know she could be by herself for an entire hour while Sarah was in Karen's care. She sat in an armchair by the window and for a few moments, gazed outside. In the street, a few kids were running around in the dusk, trying to finish a game of kickball in the street before it became too dark. Lights were flashing on in people's homes. Kristy pushed open the window and allowed herself to breathe in the cool, fresh scent of late autumn air. It was beautiful.

But was it home?

She shook the thought from her head and went about gathering her courage. Then she took the phone and sat back down in the chair, dialing Clive's number.

He answered right away. "Hello?"

She took a deep breath. "Hi. It's me. Kristy."

"Kristy!" Clive exclaimed. "Are you all right? I was worried by your message."

"I'm sorry to have been so brief," Kristy said formally. "My stepfather had a heart attack."

Clive was quiet for a minute. "Is he all right?" he asked finally.

Kristy nodded. "Yes. It was a mild one, thank God. He should be out of the hospital in a few days."

"And you're at home in Stoneybrook?" Clive asked carefully, a hidden question. He knew, of course, that Kristy had not seen her family in years.

"Yes," Kristy replied. "I had to come home. My family needed me."

"Of course," Clive agreed. "I, uh, I'm glad that you went, in that case. And is everything okay?"

She knew that he was asking about more than Watson. She sighed. "I guess so. I mean, yeah. Everyone's glad to see me, I suppose, but it's a little weird. And Sarah was a big surprise. Not to mention my best friend. Or rather, former best friend. She's practically not even speaking to me, she's so mad."

She could practically see him nodding on the other end of the phone. "Everything will work out, Kristy," he said softly. "You took a big step in going home after all this time. It was very brave."

"Brave?" she repeated.

"Yeah. You knew that your family might have mixed feelings about seeing you. I'm sure you were nervous. But you knew that your stepfather needed you, and so you went anyway. I consider that brave."

Kristy let out another sigh. "I guess."

"I _know_."

They were silent for a few moments. He always knew what to say to her, always had little words of wisdom that lifted her spirits a bit. Kristy's mind drifted to a memory. About a week after they'd started dating, she and Clive had gone to his apartment after work. Stacey had stayed with Sarah that night. Clive had rented a movie and they made dinner together. Nothing fancy, just a simple meal. Kristy couldn't even remember what they ate. But after a few hours of watching a movie, they'd begun to kiss and had retreated into the bedroom. And afterwards, instead of laying and staring at the ceiling, Kristy had rolled over onto her side and cuddled into Clive's arms.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" she had asked him.

Clive looked down at her and he didn't answer right away, which oddly enough, Kristy had liked. She knew that he was considering his answer and that he would be honest. Clive wouldn't sprout off an automatic, "You're beautiful" line to his girlfriend just so she wouldn't get into a discussion about her insecurities. Finally, Clive smiled a soft little smile and nodded slightly. "Yeah," he answered.

"I never used to think I was," Kristy said, talking more to herself than to him. "You should see some pictures of me from middle school or high school. I was always in jeans and baseball caps. My friends used to tease me about it. I never cared, much, I guess. But sometimes I'd look at friends like Stacey, who was gorgeous even then. I'd feel envious, and I'd wish that I were one of those naturally beautiful girls who could look good even wearing just jeans and a baseball cap with a collie on the front."

Clive turned over and gazed at her. "I think you're beautiful," he whispered, dropping a kiss onto her cheek. And Kristy had really felt beautiful. Just the way he said it, the way he intimately kissed her cheek, her forehead, and finally her lips. He meant it. And she never wanted him to leave her.

"Kristy?" Clive's voice cut into her thoughts now. "Are you there?"

Kristy coughed. "Yeah, I'm here."

"So, can I assume you'll be home next week?" he asked.

Kristy bit her lip. "I don't know. My mother wants me to be home for awhile. To help, you know. And, I mean. . .my lease is almost up on the apartment. I might, you know, decide to move back to Stoneybrook. To be near my family."

Clive was quiet for awhile. For so long that Kristy asked, "Are you there?"

"I'm here," he said finally. "Well, if that's what you decide, then I'll be sorry to lose you."

Did he mean personally or professionally? Maybe both?

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I'm sorry."

She heard him take a breath, as if he were going to say something. But then he said, "Take time with your decision. I've got a very good temp here for a few days. And whatever you do decide, then I'll be happy for you."

"Okay," she murmured.

Maybe a small part of her wanted him to object, but he didn't. Or didn't allow himself to. Either way, a few minutes later, they hung up the phone. Kristy held her phone in her lap and curled her legs up, staring out the window as it got darker and darker outside.

And a little darker in her heart.

* * *

The next few days were a flurry of activity. Word of Kristy's return in Stoneybrook spread, somehow. Karen and David Michael told their friends, who told parents, who gossiped in the mall or the grocery store. Everyone had known Kristy. The BSC made her very popular among parents and being outspoken made her popular among her peers and children. Talk ran wild. "Did you hear?" they'd whisper among themselves. "Kristy Thomas is back."

"Kristy Thomas? No!" another would hiss in disbelief.

"Yes! I heard she's got a kid now."

"Well, she was always a responsible baby-sitter."

"I guess so. By the way, did you catch the baseball game last night?"

Kristy spent her time helping her mother around the house and taking Sarah places. She took her on a long walk through Stoneybrook, pointing things out. "There's where Mommy lived, a long time ago," she'd say, pointing to the house she lived in on Bradford Court before her mother married. Sarah seemed enthralled with Stoneybrook. And she adored Karen. While she liked Stacey and Emily, she positively loved Karen. She clung to Karen's side even more often than she clung to Kristy's, and Karen didn't seem to mind. She took after Kristy with a love of baby-sitting, and Sarah was her new favorite charge. They played dolls and dress-up games, colored, made up cheers for pretend cheerleading games, and watched dozens of movies. Kristy had to admit that she liked the closeness between aunt and niece.

Watson came home from the hospital a week after he'd been admitted. On the day of his return, Kristy helped her mother hang a banner and set up for an impromptu, quiet welcome home party. Karen baked cookies and Sarah even made a sign in her best writing that said, "Wellcome home Watsun." It was the cutest thing Kristy had ever seen, so she hung it proudly next to the banner.

Mrs. Brewer drove Watson home from the hospital that afternoon. He came in slowly, holding onto Mrs. Brewer's arm. Even though he looked tired and weak, his eyes lit up when he saw Karen, David Michael, Emily, Mary Anne, Stacey, Kristy and Sarah waiting with the decorations and cookies. "Oh, how lovely," he said. "I love parties."

So they spent the afternoon in the living room, talking and making jokes and eating cookies, even watching a couple of movies. It was the most relaxing afternoon that Kristy had spent in a long time.

At least, until that evening. After the party wound down and the younger children retreated to their rooms, Kristy put Sarah to bed early. Then she headed back downstairs , but stopped short when she heard her name mentioned. It was coming from the kitchen.

"It's going to take some getting used to," Watson was saying.

"Kristy's been through a lot," Mrs. Brewer replied. "You have to go easy on her. I know that having her return has been an adjustment for us, but she's my daughter and I love her."

"I love her too," Watson replied, "and of course I'm happy that she's all right. For the most part. But I think, now that we've had some time to get used to the idea, that we should all sit down and talk about where to go from here. Is she planning on returning to New York or is she going to stay in Stoneybrook? For that matter, does she want to stay here or in her own place? Is she planning on going to college? We need to make these decisions."

"Yes, and we will," said Mrs. Brewer. "But give it a few more days. We're all still getting used to it. I'm even still having a hard time talking to her. Can you imagine? She's my daughter and I don't know what to say. She just seems so much. . .older. Like a stranger."

"I know," Watson agreed.

Kristy bit her lip, tears forming in her eyes. From the way that they were talking, it seemed like they weren't even happy for her. She didn't want to hear anymore. She grabbed her sneakers and sweatshirt, which had been by the front door, and hurried out of the house into the cool autumn night. One she was on the front porch, she sat down to put on her shoes and sweatshirt. Then she stood again and began walking down the long driveway.

It was getting colder outside. When she breathed, she could see the puffy white breath in front of her face. She wished she'd thought to grab a hat, or maybe some gloves. She stuck her hands into her pockets and kept going. She needed to walk for awhile, and think.

Even though her feelings were hurt, she had to admit that Watson and Mrs. Brewer's questions were legitimate. But she didn't have the answers. She was torn in between New York and Stoneybrook. Stoneybrook would always be home, but was it where she needed to be? She missed New York. She missed her freedom, missed not being the center of attention wherever she went. She missed Willow Books and, as much as she hated to admit it, she desperately missed Clive. She missed her apartment with the view, and she missed Emily. But when she was in New York, she missed her family. Maybe she just couldn't win. Either way she chose, she would miss out. If she moved back to Stoneybrook, she'd miss her independence and her life in New York. If she went back to New York, she'd miss her mother and her family.

But they could keep in touch now, she reminded herself. She didn't really have to hide anymore. That thought cheered her up.

She walked down McLelland Road and turned, heading towards town. It was late and things were starting to close down, but she kept walking anyway, looking into store windows and studying her own reflection in the glass. Her mother's words came back to her. A stranger. So much older. Did she really look that way? Kristy couldn't really tell. But then, she was so used to looking at herself that she probably couldn't objectively decide, anyway. She shrugged and kept walking down the road, her hands in her pockets. She walked in a million circles, just like her thoughts, before she finally headed back towards Watson's house.

She was so lost in her thoughts when she walked up the driveway that she was blind to the rest of the world, so she was surprised when someone said, "What are you doing out here?"

She looked up, startled, and saw none other than Mary Anne coming down the driveway. "Hi," Kristy replied, pausing, wondering if Mary Anne would stop her silent treatment.

"Hi," Mary Anne said warily, slowing down but not completely stopping.

"I'm just walking around," Kristy explained. "Lots of thinking."

Mary Anne nodded and then she did stop. "What are you thinking about?" she surprised Kristy by asking.

Kristy let out her breath. Mary Anne's expression wasn't exactly friendly, but at least she was talking. "I don't know. Where to go from here, I guess. I have to make some kind of decision, you know?"

"So, I guess that means you're leaving again," Mary Anne snapped.

"Leaving again? Not exactly," Kristy replied carefully. "I mean, I'll probably go back to New York, but it wouldn't be like I'm running away. Everyone would know where I was and I'd keep in touch."

"Are you sure you know how?" Mary Anne shot back.

Kristy closed her eyes for a brief moment, Mary Anne's retort stinging. When she opened her eyes, she decided to choose her words carefully. "Why are you giving me a hard time, Mary Anne? If I hurt you, then I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Oh," Mary Anne said, crossing her arms. "You didn't mean to just run away and torture everyone, thinking only of yourself?"

"Torture everyone!" Kristy exclaimed. "I didn't do that."

"Are you kidding me?" Mary Anne cried. "You should have seen what you put your mother through. She was worried sick. She walked around looking like a zombie for months. Not to mention your friends. I mean," Mary Anne started to look choked up, "we didn't know if you were dead in a gutter somewhere, or in trouble, or. . .or _anything_."

Kristy's own eyes were getting misty. She glanced around, but nobody seemed to be within hearing distance. It was getting dark and everyone was secure in their homes for the night. Kristy sighed. "I wanted to write, and call," she explained. "I did. But I just didn't know what to say."

"Wanting to doesn't change the fact that you didn't," Mary Anne pointed out.

"I know. I can't tell you how sorry I am. But I had to do this. I had to do what was right for me."

"How can you even try to justify that?" Mary Anne asked. "Running away is never the answer, Kristy, especially when it puts other people in a position to be freaked out."

"Why are you so mad at me?" Kristy demanded.

Mary Anne looked her straight in the eye. "Because I think what you did was incredibly selfish and irresponsible and not at all like the Kristy Thomas I thought I knew," she replied evenly, coldly.

Kristy was stunned. In all of their years of being best friends, Mary Anne had never spoken like that to anyone, much less Kristy. Mary Anne was always the shy, sensitive one. But maybe it was just another example of that stepping out of the mold thing.

She took a deep breath, trying to control her emotions. "Look, Mary Anne," she stated, "I didn't intentionally try to hurt anyone. I'm sorry that I did, especially you. But you don't know what I was going through. You don't understand. You wouldn't have understood."

"How do you _know_ that?" Mary Anne demanded. "I'm your best friend, Kristy. Maybe you didn't mean to hurt me, but you did. I just needed you to _talk_ to me. If you would have, I would have been there for you. You know I would have. I've never judged you, not once since we've been best friends. And then you started seeing Stacey, confiding in her, when I was just as easy to look up. You knew Stacey was friends with me but you never tried to see me or talk to me, even now. It took an emergency to get you to come back. I'm just wondering, if Watson never had a heart attack, if you would have came back at all."

"Of course I would have," Kristy began, but Mary Anne cut her off by shaking her head.

"No, you wouldn't have."

"Stop!" Kristy cried. "Just stop it, Mary Anne. I'm sorry. I can't say enough how sorry I am. I screwed up, okay? I'm well aware of that fact." Kristy's eyes had filled with tears that were beginning to spill over now, but she kept on shouting. She couldn't take Mary Anne's tirade anymore. She felt closed in, like she couldn't breathe. . .

"You have no idea," she went on, shouting and not caring anymore who heard her. "You have no idea what I was going through, or what happened to me. You don't know what I was feeling. You don't know what it feels like to be betrayed by the person who means the most to you."

Mary Anne shook her head. "Steven was a jerk," she said. "That didn't mean that we all were. Did you even try talking to anyone?"

"There was nothing that anybody could say," Kristy snapped. "Nobody could do anything. I made a mistake and I'm still paying for it. I'll be paying for it for the rest of my life. I love Sarah with all my heart, and I can't imagine my life without her. But that doesn't mean that I don't have to deal with the fact that my life doesn't belong to me anymore. Every day, it's Sarah first. I have to make sure she's taken care of, I have to make sure that she's happy and developed and I have to make up for the fact that she doesn't have a father. Someday I'm going to have to tell her that her father walked out on us, just like my mother had to tell it to me and my brothers. Do you know how much I hate that? How much I hate the fact that I had an asshole for a father, and because of my irresponsibility, an innocent girl will have to go through the same thing?"

Mary Anne was just looking at her, tears running down her own face. "I just had to deal with this on my own," Kristy finished quietly.

"Being a mother," Mary Anne said finally, "doesn't mean that you need to forget about your friends."

They looked at each other for a few moments. Both were breathing hard. Kristy was strung out emotionally and she started to feel a bit dizzy from her tears. She wiped them away quickly and nodded, sniffling. " I know," she said finally. "I know that now. That's why I came back. I wasn't going to. But . . . I came back."

"I'm glad you did," Mary Anne said softly, taking a few steps closer. "I missed you, Kristy."

Kristy's tears began to spill again and she stepped forward. She and Mary Anne embraced, both crying. "I would never not be there for you," Mary Anne murmured. "That's what best friends are for."

It seemed like once Kristy started crying, she couldn't stop. She let out all the tears that she'd been holding in for three years. She cried for Steven, she cried for Sarah, and she cried for the broken friendships that she could only hope to try and repair. But mostly, she cried for herself. Mary Anne just held her, patting her back and smoothing her hair. Finally, physically weak and mentally exhausted, Kristy's tears slowed and she wiped her eyes. "God," she said, taking a step back from Mary Anne. "I haven't cried like that in years. Not even when Steven left. It

felt . . .good."

Mary Anne nodded solemnly. "I always say that a good cry can cure anything."

Kristy looked at her, Mary Anne raised her eyebrows and almost at the same time, they cracked up. What a switch! Mary Anne was the one who usually cried at the drop of a hat. Kristy had teased her relentlessly about the "water works" when they were younger.

"Come on," Mary Anne said, still smiling as she put an arm around Kristy's shoulders and turned her towards the house. "I'm sure we can find a beach towel inside for you. It's going to take more than Kleenex to fix this cry fest."

Kristy laughed again and together, they headed up into the mansion.


	13. Completing a Full Circle

Chapter Thirteen

Kristy stayed in Stoneybrook for another week. Both Mary Anne and Stacey, who were missing classes, returned to New York but Kristy wanted to spend more time with her family. Over the next few days, she took Karen, Sarah, and Emily Michelle out to places, like the park and the lake. They walked downtown and sampled candy from the candy store and then played in the playground. Kristy hadn't felt so happy in a long time.

The day before she was going to go back to New York, Sunday, Karen asked for permission to baby-sit Sarah one last time.

"It won't be the last time," Kristy assured her. She was standing over her bed, packing the last of her things into her duffel bag. Sarah's stuff was already packed up in her pink suitcase. "Sarah and I will be back. I promise. We'll keep in touch. You can visit me in New York and I'll come back here at Christmas."

Karen nodded. "I know. But it'll be the last time for awhile," she replied. "I just want to take her for ice-cream again. Then we'll come back and I'll even put her to bed for you. Please?"

"Please?" echoed Sarah, who was sitting on her bed on top of her suitcase. "I'll miss Karen," she added.

Kristy tried to look stern, but a smile slipped out anyway. "Okay, okay," she said. She gave Karen some money and then waved her hand. "Go on, get out of here."

After they left, Kristy finished packing her things and then sat on the bed, looking around. The house was very quiet. She knew Watson was in the den watching a movie. Her mother had gone to visit Nannie, Emily Michelle was at a friends' house and David Michael was playing football. She decided to get some work in on her book. She took her laptop downstairs to the living room, where she could hear the shouts outside from David Michael's football game. It made her think of baby-sitting and she smiled as she began to type, referring occasionally to the BSC notebook.

She was so absorbed in her work that an hour passed before she looked up again. The doorbell was ringing. _Why doesn't someone answer it? _Kristy asked herself, irritated. But nobody was around. With a sigh, Kristy got to her feet and stretched, then rubbed her eyes_. I needed a break anyway, _she decided as she headed towards the door. She straightened her shirt and then pulled the door open, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

But the minute she pulled open the door, her jaw dropped slightly and her eyes widened. Standing there on the doorstep, looking both determined and apologetic at the same time, was Clive Brighton.

Kristy opened her mouth to speak, but she was so surprised that no sound came out. Clive took that as initiative to speak first.

"I'm sorry I came out here when I didn't even know if you wanted to see me," he began. "But I had to see you."

Kristy blinked and then somehow managed to find her voice. "Uh, come in," she said awkwardly, holding the door open so that he could step inside. When he did, she closed the door and then turned to face him, raising her eyebrows.

"I'll say what I need to say," he went on, "and then you can decide from there."

"Okay," she managed to reply. "Um, why don't you have a seat?"

They sat down on the couch and Kristy set her laptop and the notebook aside. Then she turned to Clive expectantly.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Clive turned more towards her and cleared his throat. "I don't expect anything from you," he began. "I understand that you have a daughter and you have a life that you need to have as your main priority. All I'm asking from you is that you consider me in the equation. I keep thinking of our last conversation, and I can't shake the feeling that I'm going to be a bloody moron if I just let you walk away without so much as an attempt to keep you in my life." He looked up, looking her in the eye. "I've never felt about anyone quite the way I feel about you, Kristy. And I can't stop thinking about you. So I can't let you move on without trying to keep you in my life. I just can't do it."

He paused, as if to catch his breath. Kristy felt dizzy. She could hardly believe that this man was sitting in front of her, wanting her--_her_! He was spilling his heart for her, and what was she saying?_ Nothing_.

"What I'm trying to say is," Clive finished, "is that I hope you can consider not giving up just yet."

Kristy bit her lip. Suddenly, Mary Anne's words came back to her from the night they'd had it out. _Being a mother doesn't mean you need to forget about your friends. _Did the same rule apply to boyfriends? Was there a way?

Kristy looked up at Clive, and as she took in his features, a small smile slid shyly across her face. "Okay," she said aloud.

Clive looked surprised. Kristy began to suspect he'd had much more planned to say and he wasn't expecting her to give in so easily. "Okay?" he repeated blankly.

"Okay," Kristy said again, smiling more widely this time.

Clive blinked a couple of times, looking genuinely dumbfounded. "Well . . .okay," he said finally. Kristy began to giggle, and finally Clive smiled, too. Then he reached out and took her hand.

She knew it was going to be okay.

They decided to take a drive. Kristy left a note for Karen to please put Sarah to bed and that she'd be back later. Then she grabbed her sweatshirt and headed outside with Clive.

"Who's car?" Kristy asked, eyeing the dark blue Sedan in the driveway. She knew Clive didn't have a car. You didn't really need one in New York.

"It's a rental," Clive explained. Kristy hopped in the front seat. The car smelled brand new. Clive slid into the driver's seat and started up the ignition.

"How did you know where to find me?" Kristy asked once they were on the road. She flipped on the radio, turning the volume low, and flipped through a few stations while she waited for his answer.

"Your friend, Stacey," Clive answered with a small smile. "I called your apartment, on the off chance that you would be home, and she was there checking on things for you. She answered the phone, gave me the information I needed, and here I am." He turned slightly towards her and grinned.

"That's Stacey for you," Kristy said with a laugh, shaking her head. Stacey always loved to play matchmaker.

They ended up driving out towards Stoneybrook's beach. Stoneybrook was actually a coastal town, though the beach wasn't anything special. The ocean sometimes seemed more like a lake, with its lack of waves, and the sand was hard and rocky, not anyone's idea of paradise. Most people in Stoneybrook preferred the Jersey shore in the summer. But for now, the beach was ideal. It was turning to dusk and the sun was setting, giving the beach a warm, orange glow. The parking lot was deserted.

"Not exactly the night hot spot," Kristy commented as she pulled on a pair of gloves. It _was_ pretty cold.

"All the better," Clive said with a shrug. They walked past a small boardwalk and headed out onto the beach. Kristy, suddenly feeling a burst of energy, skipped ahead of Clive. Normally the waves weren't anything to speak of, but that day they swelled and crashed up against the rocky shore, just enough to make it seem like a real beach at sunset. Kristy hurried towards the water's edge, dashed back before the waves splashed over her feet, and then jumped back down to scoop up some seashells. She felt ridiculously free and light, as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She was back in touch with her family, she was back with Clive. She couldn't remember ever feeling so happy, so free. Careless. Giggling with abandon, she jumped right into the water like a little kid. Her sneakers and the ankles of her jeans were instantly soaked, but she didn't care. "Come on in," she called to Clive. "The water's great!" That wasn't true. She felt like she had blocks of ice on her feet. But she ignored the chill. She just splashed again.

Clive, standing a few feet back, safely away from the water, just shook his head, but he was laughing. "You're crazy," he said fondly.

"All geniuses are," Kristy retorted, leaving the water's edge and going to stand next to him.

"Genius, huh?"

"Genius," Kristy insisted. Feeling goofy and giddy, she posed--pursed her lips into a serious expression, narrowed her eyes slightly, and rested her chin on her fist.

Clive studied her. "Crazy," he declared finally. He reached forward, grabbed her around the waist, and began to tickle her. Kristy shrieked and darted away from him, running down the beach, with Clive trailing not too far behind.

They ended up under one of the lifeguard towers before Kristy stopped running. She let out her breath and dropped to the sand, sitting down hard on a particularly sharp rock. "Ow," she muttered.

After they'd gotten comfortable, Clive pulled Kristy into his arms and she leaned against him. The sun was completely gone now and a pale, dusty blue twilight was beginning to settle over the beach. "We should go soon," Kristy commented.

"Yeah," Clive agreed.

Kristy stared out at the ocean, which looked more black than anything else now. Finally, her life had fallen into place. She and Mary Anne were friends again. They, along with Stacey, were going to see a play together once Kristy was back in New York. And she'd had a long talk with her parents a few nights before. She explained her reasons for wanting to return to New York City. And they had understood. Watson had even gone a few steps further. He offered that if she wanted to move to a smaller apartment once her lease was up, one that was more affordable, he would pay her rent for her. He would also pay for Sarah to be put into a better daycare program, which would enhance her intelligence. It would be more like an advanced preschool. Sarah had to much potential that it would be a shame to see it go to waste. Kristy's part of the bargain was that she would find another job or reduce her hours significantly at Willow Books---in order to go to college full-time. According to Stacey and Mary Anne, New York University was an excellent college. With Kristy's high school qualifications and grades, she was sure to be accepted. She could start the following spring. Both of her parents insisted that she pursue her college education. "A degree would guarantee that you'd go far," Watson had explained.

Which went on to the next part of the bargain---the matter of the money Kristy had taken from Watson. Kristy had apologized, over and over, to her mother and also to Watson when he'd come home from the hospital. And Watson had told her that he understood and that he didn't harbor any bitter feelings about it. "Money is no object, just as long as you're taken care of," he'd said, and Kristy had nearly cried. But they'd discussed it and agreed that when Kristy graduated from NYU with her degree, and once she got a well-paying job, then she could begin paying him back what she had taken. He said he didn't care how long it took and that her first obligation would be Sarah. It was mostly Kristy's insistence that he be paid back at all.

Yes, Kristy decided as she stared out at the water. Things were finally looking up. Things were going to be better. Different, but better.

Sometimes, change was a good thing.

* * *

By the time Christmas rolled around, Kristy was heading for Stoneybrook again. But this time was different. This time, she felt no fear--only excitement. And she was proud of herself. She had accomplished a lot in the past few weeks.

After returning to New York, she'd wasted no time in transferring Sarah to her new daycare. Then she gave Clive her two weeks' notice. Clive was disappointed that she was leaving him professionally, but their romance was back on track and he really didn't have too much room to complain. By the end of her last week, Kristy was already training a new receptionist. For awhile, she had worried that a new receptionist would steal Clive's heart from her. But the woman Clive had chosen to hire was a grandmother-type woman in her sixties with a long history of reception experience. Kristy knew she had nothing to worry about.

And in her free time, she'd finally managed to finish the rough draft of the BSC book. She had changed the title by the time she was finished, and once she was no longer employed by Willow Books, she submitted a query letter to Clive Brighton's office, safe of accusations that it would be a conflict of interest. And it worked. Clive did manage to pull a few strings for her, but the company higher-ups were very impressed by Kristy's book, "Memoirs of a Teenage Entrepreneur." She was awarded a large advance check and an offer for her book to be published the following winter, pending editing and rewriting.

Now, as Kristy sat in the passenger seat of Clive's rental car, heading towards Stoneybrook, she couldn't stop smiling. In her purse she held a single, small envelope--Watson and her mother's Christmas gift. She could hardly wait until they opened it.

Stoneybrook was decked out for Christmas. Through town, glittering holly and decorations hung from streetlamps and decorations sat in the window of Polly's Fine Candy---gingerbread houses and chocolate Christmas trees and Santa cookies. A Salvation Army Santa rang his bell on the street corner.

"I'm so excited," Kristy said, gripping Clive's hand as he pulled into Watson's driveway. Clive grinned back at her and from the backseat, Sarah let out an excited squeal.

That night, Watson and Mrs. Brewer held a large Christmas dinner with the entire family. Sam and Charlie were home, and Stacey and Mary Anne had taken the train in. Stacey's mother was also there, along with Mary Anne's father and stepmother. Sarah and Karen were giggling together while Nannie served turkey for Emily Michelle.

Kristy waited until everyone had been served. Then she rose from her seat and tapped her fork against her glass of red wine. "I'd like to propose a toast," she said when the room quieted down. "To my family, the best family that anyone could ask for." She slowly looked around, meeting eyes with each person, including her friends and Clive as her family. Finally, her gaze settled on Watson. "And to Watson and Mom, the best parents in the world. Merry early Christmas."

With that, Kristy handed Watson the envelope. Mrs. Brewer raised her eyes curiously. A quiet fell over the room while Watson opened the envelope and took out the contents. His own eyes widened.

"Kristy---this is unnecessary," he said finally. Mrs. Brewer peered over his shoulder, and her mouth dropped.

"Kristin Amanda, where in the world did this come from?" she gasped.

Kristy grinned. "I'm getting a book published," she announced. "I already received an advance check. And so I'm repaying you."

The envelope had contained a check for the amount that she'd stolen from Watson three years ago, plus interest. Even from paying all that money, she still had some left over from her advance.

"Kristy, you didn't have to do this," Watson went on at the same time Mrs. Brewer repeated, "A book?"

"I think we should finish the toast," Kristy said firmly. A little stunned, everyone in the room mechanically raised their glasses and repeated, "To family."

Once Kristy had taken her seat, she explained her book and what it was about. "And I insist on paying you back what I owe you," she said when it looked like her parents were going to protest again. Finally, her parents gave in and everyone dug into their meals. For a few minutes, Kristy just sat back and watched as everyone ate and joked and laughed together. She hadn't been around such a warm, homey environment in years.

She felt a hand touch her arm and she glanced over. "Are you all right?" Clive asked, ever concerned.

Kristy nodded slowly. She glanced around the room again and smiled slowly, turning back towards Clive. Warmly, she gave him a kiss on the lips. "I'm all right," she answered. "I'm all right."

After all, she had finally come full circle.

Kristy Thomas was home.

THE END

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Wow! I didn't expect this story to grow into something so big! Over 100 reviews, all of them good, and each and every one appreciated. I love getting feedback and I love to think that people are responding well to something that I've written. I want to thank all of you for reviewing my story. Each review I got put a smile on my face and boosted my esteem. I'm glad to know that you've enjoyed my story. I deeply appreciate it.

Thanks so much!

Wasted21


End file.
